The Savage Heart - Complete - R rated
by Bobbi Todd
Summary: Wolverine *doesn't* get the girl this time


The Savage Heart  
  
by Bobbi Todd  
bobbitodd@hotmail.com  
  
  
  
The X-Men are the property of Marvel Comics and are used here without their permission.  
R - Violence, rape, sex.  
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
The woman was trudging through the snow, the deer strapped to her back causing her to bend nearly double beneath its weight, when she stumbled over something buried in a drift. She went down heavily, instinctively thrusting the unstrung bow away from her, praying it wouldn't be damaged. She needed it to survive.  
  
She lay face down in the deep snow for a moment, struggling to catch her breath. Finally, she tried to rise, but the carcass was too heavy. She released the straps holding it in place and wriggled out from under it, the snow creeping into her collar and boots. She shivered, having already been out in the cold longer than was wise.  
  
She retrieved her bow, then poked curiously at the mound which had tripped her. It moaned and she leaped backwards with more energy than she thought she had left.  
  
Her heart pounding, she cautiously approached again, using her precious bow to sweep the snow away. She stared for a moment at what was revealed. The body of a man, clad only in torn jeans, lay before her. His skin was blue from the cold, his hands and feet had the deadly white cast of deep frost bite. If he lived, which wasn't likely, he'd probably lose them. She gingerly turned him to his back and he moaned again. She couldn't blame him. He'd been savaged by something big. Claws had torn deep furrows across his chest and belly. His face had been slashed as well, one claw narrowly missing his left eye. He'd lost a lot of blood.  
  
She stared down at him for a moment, knowing that she was trying to justify to herself leaving him here. If she'd come along just five minutes later, he'd have been beyond help. He probably was anyway.  
  
She sighed and turned to remove the carrying straps from the deer. She couldn't just let him die, no matter what it might mean to her later. She took her coat off and put it on the man, his massive shoulders straining the hand-sewn seams. She had to take her mittens off to fasten the deer horn buttons, and her hands were numb long before she was finished.  
  
Shivering so hard it felt like her bones would fly apart, she stood, then slung him across her back with a practiced motion. She staggered, trying to get her balance. He was heavier than he looked. Just her luck. They were still nearly a mile from her cabin, and she hoped she could get them there before they both froze to death. She cast one regretful glance at the deer before she began their journey. She hoped whatever had mauled the man didn't find it. Then again, maybe it would be best if it did. She scooped up her bow and began to walk.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 2  
  
  
She fought her way through the last yards of snow to the tiny cabin she called home. Her numb hand fumbled with the deer hide strap hanging outside the door, and pulled it, releasing the latch and opening the door. She stumbled in and lowered the man as gently as she could to the rough bed. He was still breathing.  
  
She carefully hung the bow, and the crude quiver holding her few arrows, on a peg near the door. Then she turned to the stone fireplace and began to rebuild the fire. The cabin warmed quickly. She gently removed her coat from the man, checked to see that none of his wounds was still bleeding, then covered him with the bearskin she had laboriously tanned.  
  
She looked longingly at the fire for a moment, then, with a sigh, put her coat on and went back out into the cold. She had to retrieve the deer. Without it she, and her unexpected guest, would starve.  
  
  
  
The man called Logan woke briefly, aware of the warmth slowly creeping into his nearly frozen body. The burning pain in his hands and feet told him how close he had been to freezing to death. He looked around at the tiny cabin, but there was no one else there. He tried to sit up and the torn muscles in his belly reminded him of why he'd been in the snow in the first place. Before he blacked out again, he mumbled one word.  
  
"Creed."  
  
  
  
Nearly at the end of her strength, she stumbled against the cabin door, the frozen deer banging her painfully in the back. She was staring at the deer hide strap when the door suddenly opened and she fell in, finding herself once more pinned beneath the carcass. This was becoming a habit. Something shoved her legs aside and the cabin door was slammed shut against the cold. She didn't even try to move the deer. She was simply too exhausted.  
  
"You workin' with Creed?" a rough voice asked.  
  
"Who ... the hell ... is Creed?" she asked, her voice muffled against the hide covered floor.  
  
Logan was started by the woman's voice. He didn't let his guard down, though. Years of bitter experience had taught him that the so-called weaker sex was actually deadlier than her male counterpart.  
  
"Creed's one nasty customer," he told her, lifting the deer from her body. The effort pulled at the healing wound on his belly and made him grunt. The woman was struggling to get her legs under her. He let the deer thump to the floor and offered her a wary hand. After a long moment she took it and he pulled her to her feet. He released her hand and they stood evaluating each other.  
  
She saw a short, hairy man, with wild, dark hair and ancient eyes. His wounds didn't seem to be as bad as she'd thought, though he had one hand pressed to his belly. His color was better than when she'd left to get the deer, at least.  
  
He saw a shapeless figure about his own height, her body muffled with clothes sewn together from a variety of different animal skins, only her eyes showing beneath the protective covering. They were very weary.  
  
She sighed.  
  
"How'd I get here?" he asked after a long silence. She pulled her mittens off before answering. Her hands were small and surprisingly delicate, though the nails were broken, and calluses were obvious on her palms and fingers.  
  
"I ran into you in the woods," she said simply, unwinding her scarf as she spoke. "You looked like you could use a hand, so I brought you back here." She hung the scarf and mittens in front of the fire. Her hair was dark, and her face gaunt. There were dark circles under her eyes. She unbuttoned her coat and hung it, too, near the fire. She was a small woman, and her frame was painfully thin. Her shoulders drooped with fatigue.  
  
"You been here long?" he asked as she wearily added a stick of wood to the fire.  
  
"A while."  
  
Logan was considering his somewhat limited options when the woman sighed again.  
  
"Sorry, I'm not much of a hostess. There's a shirt over there that might fit you," she pointed at a rude box in the corner, it looked like an old ammo box. "One of my first attempts. I misjudged and made it too big. Just couldn't bring myself to waste the hide, an' it was just too much trouble to cut it down."  
  
He lifted the lid and sorted through the few items in the box. He found the shirt quickly. Under it was a worn pair of blue jeans, a torn tee shirt, and a ragged pair of tennis shoes. She'd apparently been living off the land for a while, and it didn't look like she'd started with much.  
  
She stepped past him and took the tee shirt from the box.  
  
"Knew this'd come in handy." She poured a handful of water, from a skin she took from a peg on the wall, on the cloth. "Have a seat and let me look at those cuts, then I'll see about fixing something for us to eat."  
  
"That ain't necessary."  
  
"Yeah, well, humor me. Up here, an infection isn't much fun."  
  
She gently cleaned his wounds, even though her exhaustion was obvious. She flinched when he reached to move a lock of hair from her eyes.  
  
"Sorry, darlin'." She didn't answer, but she quickly finished her task and moved away from him. He could smell her fear. He pulled the shirt on over his head, painfully stretching the cuts the woman had just cleaned. He pulled the laces tight. It wasn't a bad fit.  
  
She picked up a hatchet, with a broken handle, and began to chop at the deer carcass. It was frozen solid and she wasn't getting very far.  
  
"Let me give it a try, darlin'." She looked at him for a second, then shrugged.  
  
"Sure." She offered him the broken hatchet, but he shook his head.  
  
"Think this'll work a mite better," he said, extending one claw from the back of his hand. She blinked, but didn't say anything. The adamantium sliced easily through the frozen meat and bone. She moved closer to the fire. She shivered and added the last piece of wood to the fire. He continued to cut the meat.  
  
  
  
"How much o' this do ya want cut up?" he asked, turning to look at her several minutes later. She was sitting in front of the fire, dozing. She was younger than he'd thought. A lot younger.  
  
The fire was getting low, and there wasn't any more wood. He put the bearskin blanket around her and lifted her coat from the peg. It looked big enough to fit him snugly. He started to put it on and noticed bloodstains on the inside of the coat. He could tell by the scent that it was his. Kid musta found him, put her coat on him, and dragged him back here. Then gone back for the deer. No wonder she was exhausted.  
  
He put the coat on and quietly stepped outside, the snow burning his bare feet. He had to hunt around to find any wood, and he was pretty unsteady when he returned to the shelter of the rude cabin.  
  
The girl had curled up under the blanket, but started when he opened the door. She scrambled to her feet, terror in her eyes.  
  
"Easy, darlin'. Just went out for more wood," he told her, closing the door behind him with one foot. As she helped him with the wood, he noticed that she was favoring her left arm. He also noticed her scent. It was very ... compelling.  
  
"What'd ya do to yer arm?" She put several pieces of the deer on a metal grate above the fire before answering.  
  
"I lost an argument with a wolf. He didn't want to share his territory with me. Chewed up my arm, an' kept me up a tree for three days." She shrugged, careful to keep as much distance between them as possible. "By the time he got bored an' left, my arm was infected. I was sick for a long time." She looked around the cabin. "That's why I'm short on wood." An' food, he thought. Maybe he could help her before he moved on. Unless Creed caught up with him first.  
  
She dragged the ammo box over near the fire.  
  
"Sit down an' let me look at your feet," she ordered. "You should'a let me go get the wood. Your feet were probably still half frozen from earlier." He grit his teeth and took off her coat as she examined his feet, then wrapped them in rabbit skins.  
  
"I don't know why you don't have frost bite, but it's a good thing. I don't have any medicines." She took the coat and hung it on the peg near the fire.  
  
Using the hatchet she pulled some of the meat from the grate onto a chipped plate she had retrieved from a shelf. She handed it to him.  
  
"Sorry, no silverware."  
  
"Thanks, darlin'."  
  
"Get some of that inside you. It'll help you warm up." She snagged the last piece of meat from the fire, and sat down with her back against the wall. She ate hungrily for a minute, then asked,  
  
"So, what happened to you?"  
  
"Some folks want me ta do somethin' I ain't interested in doin'."  
  
"That Creed person one of 'em?"  
  
"Yeah. An' he'll be lookin' fer me soon."  
  
"Not in this weather, he won't." She finished her piece of venison. "What'd they do, sic a mountain lion on you?"  
  
"Somethin' like that." The wind howled outside the cabin. Neither spoke again.  
  
  
  
The extra wood soon had the cabin warmed to a more comfortable level, and the woman dozed off again, still sitting with her back to the wall. His feet had finally stopped hurting, and the food had helped as well. The cuts on his chest and belly had nearly healed, and it didn't hurt as much to move. He put the plate on the floor near the fire and took the hatchet from the woman's nerveless fingers. He quietly banked the fire, adding another piece of wood, then carefully picked her up and put her on the makeshift bed. The mattress was several old cloth bags, laced together and stuffed with grass. It was covered with rabbit hides, making it fairly comfortable. He covered her with the bearskin and carefully crawled in beside her. The warmth of her body against him felt good after the cold. She murmured in her sleep, and snuggled into his arms. In moments, he had joined her in sleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 3  
  
  
  
When he woke, his injuries had completely disappeared, taking the pain with them. He could ignore the gnawing hunger in his belly for a time. The woman was curled against him, her breath warm on his throat. There was still something odd about her scent, but he couldn't place it. He breathed deeply of the heady aroma. His left arm was across her waist, his hand resting on her back. Unconsciously, he pulled her closer, reacting to the urging of his body. Her head was pillowed on his right arm, and he stroked her hair and cheek with his right hand. Her lips parted in a gentle smile at his touch. He bent his head and brushed them with his own. The taste of her mouth was intoxicating, and he stroked her back with his left hand, sliding it up under her shirt to caress her bare skin. The bones of her ribs were easily distinguished beneath his hand, but he barely noticed. He pulled her hips against him, pushing his growing erection into her through their clothing. He deepened the kiss and she roused, blinking at him sleepily for a moment, before her eyes widened in alarm.  
  
She pushed against his chest with both hands, trying to pull away, but he twisted his right hand in her hair, holding her tightly. He shifted her to her back, pinning her beneath him as his left hand explored her body and his mouth plundered hers, his passion overriding all control.  
  
He released her mouth so that he could taste the sweet flesh of her throat.  
  
"No, please," she whimpered, pushing against him again, writhing beneath him. The movement of her body only excited him further. He released her hair and captured her left wrist in his powerful right hand, pinning her arm above her head. She whimpered as the position pulled at the injured tissue of her arm. Pinning her right hand with his left, crossing her wrists, he freed his other hand.  
  
"No!" she cried as he shoved one knee between her thighs, forcing them apart. He pulled at the deerskin pants she wore. She struggled beneath him, but to no avail. He would have what he wanted, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. She sobbed with fear and pain as he kissed her brutally, bruising her with his need. In terror, she bit his lip, drawing blood. With a shout of rage, he pulled free of her teeth. Without releasing her, he clenched his right hand into a fist and struck her in the jaw with all his might. With his adamantium laced skeleton, and the muscle structure strong enough to carry it, he might as well have hit her with a hammer. She went limp beneath him.  
  
Lifting himself slightly from her, to allow better access to her clothing, he extended all three claws from his right hand. He clumsily shoved these under her shirt, intending to slice it from her body. In his haste, he cut her. Three long, narrow gouges opened in the skin of her chest and right breast. He froze at the sight of the blood on his claws as they emerged from the open neck of her shirt.  
  
He realized that he was only moments away from raping the woman, no, the girl, who had saved his life, shared her shelter and her meager supplies with him.  
  
He carefully withdrew his claws, retracting them with a sharp, metallic sound. He shifted his weight from her and looked down with horror at the already bruising flesh of her wrists and jaw. He gingerly checked for a pulse, and felt a surge of relief when he found one, slow, but strong and steady. He gently probed her jaw and neck, praying that he hadn't broken her bones. It seemed that luck was with him, even if his sanity appeared to have departed.  
  
He stroked her cheek tenderly for a moment, until he realized that the uncontrollable lust was returning. He staggered to his feet, backing toward the door, as the girl continued to lay, motionless and oh, so inviting, on the bed. He licked his lips, and actually took a step toward her, before he yanked the door open and stumbled through, slamming it behind him.  
  
It was snowing heavily and he had no idea where he was. His injuries had healed and, thanks to the girl, he had eaten and rested, and was better clothed than before. None of which mattered. He knew that if he did not put some distance between himself and the girl, the beautiful, desirable, tempting .... He pushed away from the cabin, running into the forest.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 4  
  
  
  
"Ungh," the girl moaned as she woke. She lifted her head, one hand going to her jaw as she looked around the small cabin. The man was gone. She touched the cuts on her chest gingerly. They weren't much more than scratches, and had already stopped bleeding. And unless he had dressed her, she didn't think he had carried through on his obvious intentions. It would be the first time since she was fourteen that a man had caught her and not raped her. Even her father.... She shoved the thought away. She knew it wasn't his fault. Her stepmother had had the right of it. She was a Jezebel, a wicked woman. Men simply couldn't resist her. It was why she was living up here in the first place.  
  
She pulled her coat on. He couldn't be allowed to die because there was something wrong with her. She decided that she would bring him back to the cabin and, when the need for her body came on him again, she wouldn't resist.  
  
She picked up the bearskin and opened the door. His tracks were rapidly filling in with new snow, but he hadn't made any effort to hide them. He never dreamed that she would try to come after him.  
  
  
  
He was shivering uncontrollably, his healing factor no protection from the cold. Even with the rabbit skins tightly wrapped around them, his feet had rapidly become numb. His hands, tucked into his armpits, weren't much better. The cold wind caused his eyes to tear, and the salty drops froze on his cheeks.  
  
He stumbled and fell, and discovered that he didn't have the energy to get up again. He idly wondered if his healing factor would kick back in when his body thawed out next spring. He kinda doubted it. At least the girl was safe. He rolled over to his back and watched the snow fall through the trees. It was beautiful. He could think of worse ways to die. Finally, his eyes drifted shut and he slept, expecting never to wake.  
Chapter 5  
  
  
  
After several hours of plodding through the snow she found him. He lay on his back, one hand on his chest, the other arm at his side. Snow had begun to build up over him. He looked peaceful. She knelt beside him and shook him with one small hand.  
  
"C'mon, buddy. Wake up." She sighed. "Come on! I don't think I can carry you again. Please, wake up!" She shook him again, harder this time, and he blearily opened his eyes. She nearly sobbed in relief.  
  
"Jubilee?" he asked, the single word was slurred.  
  
"No," she answered, shaking him yet again when his eyes slipped closed once more. "Wake up!" He opened his eyes again, blinking and trying to clear them. His nostrils flared as he recognized her.  
  
"Darlin', you gotta get away from me."  
  
"Its not your fault," she said, soothingly. "Come back with me."  
  
"Its always the man's fault when he rapes a woman, darlin'. Now get away from me before I try it again."  
  
"It isn't rape if the woman says yes," she said, thinking 'and never if its me'. "Now get up," she continued. "I'm freezin' my tail off out here. I just want to go home and get warm again." Slowly, with the girl prodding and goading him, he got to his feet. She wrapped the bearskin around him and, supporting him as much as she could, she led him back to the cabin.  
  
  
  
She got him onto the bed and turned to build up the fire. He was barely conscious when she pulled the rabbit skins from his feet, chaffing the nearly frozen flesh until he moaned with pain. She undid the lacing on the shirt he wore, and pushed it from his shoulders. Then she tugged the jeans from his body. She quickly peeled out of her clothes and lay down next to him, pulling the bearskin over them both, sharing her body heat with him as they both shivered, the heat from the fire slowly penetrating them as they lay together on the bed.  
  
  
  
She woke before he did and lay with her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. His arm was around her shoulders, holding her close. She tried not to flinch away from the contact. So much of her bare skin was touching his. She wondered what it would feel like to have sex without being raped. His heartbeat quickened as he reached up with his free hand and caressed her cheek, suddenly and completely awake.  
  
"Flamin' hell, girl, what are you doin'?"  
  
"Nothing I don't want to do," she answered simply. She combed through the hair on his chest with her fingers, gently touching his nipples before her hand slid down his belly. His breathing grew ragged as she traced abstract shapes across the muscles of his abdomen. He ran his hand down her back to the curved flesh of her hip, stroking her, teasing her with his fingertips. With his other hand, he tipped her chin up so he could reach her mouth with his. His tongue caressed her lips and she parted them for him. She tasted sweeter than before, her desire adding to the flavor of her mouth.  
  
He pulled her hard against his hip, her thigh over his. He stroked the tender flesh of her throat, running his hand down between her breasts, regretfully touching the cuts he had inflicted. He deepened the kiss. She turned, pressing her body against him as he ran his hand across her back. He broke their kiss, grinding his teeth to maintain control.  
  
"Its okay," she whispered. "Just let go and ..." Her soft words tickled his ear maddeningly.  
  
"What... what's yer name, darlin'?" he gasped.  
  
"It doesn't matter. Just pretend I'm who you want me to be."  
  
The faces of his desires flashed through his mind. Heather Hudson, Jean Grey, and many others, even poor lost Mariko.  
  
"No," he said. "No fantasies, darlin'. I want to be with you," he told her truthfully. She smiled at him.  
  
"Just call me Jezebel."  
  
"I'm Logan, darlin'."  
  
"Hi, Logan."  
  
"H'lo, Jezebel." She silenced him with another kiss.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Mmmmmm," she said. "That was very nice. I didn't know it could feel so good."  
  
"Sex is supposed to feel good, darlin'."  
  
"I've had sex before, but never like this," she shrugged, her position giving the gesture an odd feel. "There's something wrong with me. Men can't resist the urge to screw me, even if I don't want to. Or maybe especially if I don't want to. You're the first I've decided to want."  
  
"How old are you, darlin'?"  
  
"Why?" she responded, suddenly defensive.  
  
"Just curious."  
  
"I turned eighteen last summer," she answered slowly.  
  
"How long you been up here?" he asked, stroking her hair, his other hand on her back.  
  
"Three years. I stopped going into town two years ago. It was just too dangerous. The men all want... well, you know what they want. But the women were worse. It was like they hated me on sight. Some of them attacked me, and I haven't been back."  
  
"When did this all start?" he asked.  
  
"I was fourteen. My ... my dad was the first. He ... he got this crazy look in eyes, and he grabbed me, and ..." her tears slipped down her cheek and across his shoulder. He cradled her gently. "When he realized what he'd done, he shot himself." She shuddered.  
  
"It kept getting worse over the next year. At first, a guy had to be around me for a while before it started, but then all I had to do was be in the same room with somebody, and they were all over me. My stepmom threw me out, and after a cop helped six guys rape me, and then tried to shoot me so I couldn't tell, I ran up here. I found this cabin an' kinda fixed it up. I've been here ever since."  
  
Soon, they both slept.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 6  
  
  
  
"I think you may be a mutant darlin'," he said when they woke.  
  
"Really? Because of ... what I make ... people want to do to me?"  
  
"Yeah. Prob'ly pheromones or somethin'."  
  
"Huh. I've never even met a mutant."  
  
"Ya have now."  
  
"You?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Huh. Is that why you got better after I found you in the snow? I didn't figure you'd make it."  
  
"Yeah, darlin'. That's why."  
  
"Cool." He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering if 'cool' was an appropriate word.  
  
"I'm hungry, how about you?"  
  
"Starved."  
  
"Lemme up an' I'll get us something ta eat."  
  
She shivered in the cold air of the cabin, quickly pulling her clothes on. He dressed and put some more wood on the fire while she got some of the deer he had cut up the day before and put it on the grate to cook.  
  
"How far is it to the nearest town?"  
  
"About six days," she answered slowly. "In good weather."  
  
"I've got some folks I need ta contact, an' I'll see about getting some supplies for ya then." She nodded, but didn't say anything.  
  
"What's the matter?" She shrugged. "I can't stay here, angel."  
  
"I understand."  
  
"No, ya don't," he said, turning her towards him. "Its dangerous for you if I stay. Creed'll be lookin' fer me, and I don't want ta lead him here. I don't want ta lead him ta you. And then, o' course, there's the danger I pose to ya. I could'a killed you yesterday, girl. I nearly raped you."  
  
"You don't have to worry about that. I told you, its not rape if a woman says yes, and I'll always say yes."  
  
"It is if she doesn't mean it." She didn't answer. "Listen, my friends might be able to help you. Once I've settled with Creed, I'll bring 'em back here, if ya want."  
  
"Fine." She didn't sound very confident and he drew her into the circle of his arms.  
  
"It'll be okay, darlin'. I promise." They sat in front of the fire and waited for the meat to cook. They didn't speak. It just didn't seem necessary.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 7  
  
  
  
After they had eaten, he went back out to gather more wood. He found a downed tree about a mile from the cabin. It looked like she had chipped at it with her broken hatchet, but she hadn't made much headway. The wood was well seasoned. The tree had been down for a while. Using his claws, he cut the trunk into manageable pieces and dragged several of them back to the cabin. He cut the wood into pieces small enough to fit the fireplace, and stacked it at the side of the cabin, where it would be mostly protected from the weather.  
  
He knocked on the door before entering. He didn't want to startle her again. She had more of the venison roasting on the fire. She'd boiled some of the meat as well, creating a rich broth. She pressed the cup, filled with the broth, into his hands as soon as he'd shut the door behind him.  
  
He took off the borrowed coat and hung it on the peg, then sipped the hot broth. She sat, cross-legged, on the low bed. She pulled the bearskin into her lap and began to work at it with a sharpened antler.  
  
"What are you doin', darlin'?"  
  
"Finishing up your coat. You'll need it tomorrow, when you leave." He watched her in silence, sipping the hot liquid and absorbing the heat from the fire.  
  
"How'd you bring down a bear?" he asked finally.  
  
"I didn't," she said. "Yogi here was a corpse when I found him last spring. The meat was bad, but I managed to salvage his hide. Made a nice blanket. Should make a warm coat." She looked up at him and smiled. "And you'd dern well better wear it, too. I'm tired of hauling your half frozen carcass all over the landscape." He laughed.  
  
"All right, darlin'. I'll wear it."  
  
"Here, try it on." He handed her the nearly empty cup and took the bearskin from her. "You'll have to pull it on over your head. I didn't have time for buttons." He put it on.  
  
She viewed her handiwork critically.  
  
"I guess it'll have to do," she pronounced, her hands on her hips.  
  
"It'll do fine." She tugged at the seams, testing their strength. He stroked her cheek and she flinched.  
  
"Sorry, darlin'," he said with regret.  
  
"No, its okay. I'm just not used to being ... touched, without being ... hurt, you know?" He touched her cheek, just above the angry bruise he had inflicted upon her.  
  
"I know. I'll never hurt you again." He wanted to pull her against him, to kiss her and feel her respond to his touch. He turned away from her and took off the coat. It was suddenly much too warm in the cabin for it's weight.  
  
"Are you hungry?" she asked him after an uncomfortable silence.  
  
"Yeah," he answered, trying without much success to keep his mind off her slim body. She took the meat from the grate and divided it with her broken hatchet, giving him the much larger share. He protested.  
  
"Look, just take it, okay? You'll need it more than I do when you leave." She wouldn't meet his eyes. She knew he had to go, but she wasn't looking forward to being alone again. She took her portion, balanced awkwardly on a chipped bowl, and sat down on the bed. He sat on the floor near the fire, as far from her as the little cabin would allow.  
  
They ate in silence. He kept his eyes carefully on the food. At last, she sighed.  
  
"The town's kinda south and east of here, mostly south as the crow flies, but you hafta dodge the lake. Its probably frozen, but my dad ... my dad always warned me not to trust the ice. The lake's spring fed."  
  
"Sounds like good advice."  
  
"Yeah," she shook her head. "He was always full of good advice. He also told me not to go on a hike without enough supplies for at least three days longer than you were plannin' on bein' gone, so I put some of the meat on to smoke so you can carry it with you. You can have the water skin too. I won't really need it before spring, and I can make another one by then."  
  
"You won't need to, darlin'. I'll come back for you before then."  
  
"Whatever," she said as she got to her feet. She took his plate from him and put it next to the fire. He knew she'd scour it with ashes later. He stood and turned her towards him, his hands gentle on her arms.  
  
"I will come back." She only smiled sadly. He pulled her into his arms and held her there, murmuring into her hair, "I will." She put her arms around him and clung to him.  
  
"I believe you," she said. But he wasn't sure she did.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 8  
  
  
  
The next morning, she filled a large pouch with smoked venison. She had filled the water skin with snow and hung it near the fire earlier. She lifted this down and gave both to him. He slung them across his body, then put on the coat she had made for him. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.  
  
"I will come back," he said, his voice rough. She just nodded, then watched him as he left the cabin, closing the door behind him. She sighed.  
  
After he was gone, she started sorting through her small supply of skins, trying to find one that would be suitable for a water skin. She didn't expect to see him again. Once he was out of range, as she thought of it, he probably wouldn't want anything to do with her. She found a skin that she thought would work, and set about tying off the holes where the animal's feet had been. A single tear slipped down her cheek.  
  
  
  
It was hard-going through the drifted snow, but Logan forged ahead doggedly. Now that the storm had passed, he knew Creed would be hunting him. He left as clear a trail as he could, hoping the psychopath would follow him, and not bother to stop at the cabin. At one point, he almost went back for the girl, but he convinced himself that she would be in more danger if she were with him. Fate would prove him wrong.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 9  
  
  
  
It had been three days since Logan had left her. She had sent much of the remaining venison with him, and she felt that it would be better to save the rest of the smoked meat for bad weather, or if she were to become ill again. The new water skin hung next to the fire.  
  
She set her snares some distance from the cabin. The forest creatures had become wary near her home.  
  
After several hours of patient waiting, she returned to the cabin with a brace of rabbits. She stopped at the pile of carefully stacked wood and gathered several pieces to take in with her. The sun was setting and she didn't notice the tracks in front of the cabin.  
  
She pulled the hide strap to open the door and went inside. She jumped, dropping the pair of rabbits as the door was slammed behind her. She whirled as a huge blonde man loomed over her. The firewood dropped, forgotten, as she backed away from him. He grinned down at her when she hit the wall and could go no further.  
  
"Hello, girlie. Lookin' fer a pal o' mine. Goes by the name o' Logan. You haven't seen him, have you?" He put his forearm against the wall above her head, leaning over her menacingly.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 10  
  
  
  
"Huh, huh, huh," she gasped. The terror which gripped her heart as she looked up at the man seemed to have robbed her of the power of speech.  
  
"What's the matter, frail? Cat got yer tongue?" His eyes glinted with amusement at a joke she didn't understand.  
  
"He ... l..l..left," she stammered.  
  
"Well, at least ya got sense enough not ta try ta lie to me," he said, pulling her hat off with his free hand. He dropped it on the floor and stroked her cheek. "I can smell him all over the place." He raised one eyebrow. "And all over you. You his latest conquest, darlin'?" he asked, mocking Logan with his use of the pet name.  
  
"Please," she whispered desperately as she reached up and began to unbutton her coat. "Please don't hurt me." His eyes narrowed at her motion, but there was no way this scrawny, underfed female could be a threat to him. She shrugged out of the coat without moving away from the wall. Creed caught a lock of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers.  
  
"How long's he been gone?" he asked, unconsciously bringing the hair closer to his face, inhaling her scent like a drug.  
  
"Three days." She began to fumble with the fastenings of her shirt, exposing her breasts to his view, hoping that her willingness would protect her.  
  
"What are you doing?" he demanded.  
  
"Please, I'll do whatever you want. I don't want to be raped again."  
  
"Again?" He stared at her with genuine surprise, seeing the bruise on her jaw for the first time. He tilted her chin up to get a better look. "Logan did this?" The disbelief was clear in his voice. "Logan raped you? Little guy, dark hair, claws?"  
  
"He ... held me down," she said, showing him the bruises on her wrists. "I bit him, and he hit me. Then he cut me. I didn't fight him after that." She told him the literal truth. Creed ran an incredulous finger along the cut on her breast. Then he laughed, the sound chilling her blood.  
  
"I'll be damned! I didn't think the runt had it in him. Ha!" he laughed heartily. "Guess I'll hafta show you what a real man feels like, won't I frail?" He grasped more of her hair, pulling her up to meet his sharp-toothed mouth. Her toes barely touched the floor as he kissed her brutally.  
  
He abruptly released her and she nearly fell. He turned and sprawled casually on her bed. She clutched her shirt. This man wasn't like Logan. He'd probably have raped her even if she wasn't irresistible.  
  
"Leave it open. I like the view." She dropped her hand, but stayed against the wall, afraid to move. "When's he comin' back?" She shook her head.  
  
"I don't think he is."  
  
"Too bad. I was gonna arrange a surprise for 'im," his eyes roamed her body, making her think unpleasantly that the 'surprise' involved her.  
  
"You gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna fix those damn rabbits. I'm gettin' hungry," he announced from his position on her bed. His eyes were hard. She wondered how long he'd wait.  
  
She stumbled when she moved away from the support of the wall. She picked up the rabbits without even glancing at the door. She had no doubt that he could catch her. And that he probably wanted her to try to run.  
  
She picked up the broken hatchet, but dropped it instantly, cowering, when he snarled.  
  
"What do ya think yer doin', bitch?" He stood, glaring down at her, his mouth twitching in amusement. He knew the hatchet was no threat.  
  
"I ... I need ... to clean ... the rabbits," her voice was barely audible. He reached down and snatched the rabbits from her hand. He tore the head off of one. He yanked the skin from its body like the skin from a bologna, then ripped its belly open with the claws he extended from his fingertips, pulling it guts out. He dropped the cleaned carcass in front of her where she knelt, shivering in terror on the floor. He quickly repeated the process with the second rabbit. He resumed his position on the bed as if he hadn't moved.  
  
She put the two rabbits on the grate, then gathered the heads, skins, and offal and put them aside. She would take care of it later. If she had a later.  
  
"Come here," he ordered. She cringed, but obeyed. "Lose the pants." She slipped the boots off, then slid the pants down over her narrow hips. She stood before him, wearing only the open shirt, with her eyes downcast. "Look at me, girlie. I wanna see what's goin' on in yer head." She met his eyes with difficulty. The smoldering lust she saw there frightened her.  
  
He saw only fear. He smiled. She was delicious.  
  
"Now lose the shirt." She dropped it obediently, standing before him completely bare, unconsciously mimicking the position of a slave girl on the auction block. Her head was turned away from him, and her eyes dropped again, unable to keep his gaze. She stood with one knee bent, her hands at her sides, awaiting his command. 'Please,' she wanted to beg. 'Can't you see that I'll do whatever you want? Please don't hurt me.'  
  
"Come here," he said again, patting the bed with one hand. She moved to kneel beside him, but he grabbed her wrist and yanked her down, so that she lay half across him, her bare breasts against his chest. "You said you'd do anything I want, as long as I don't rape you, right?" She nodded, her throat too tight to permit speech. "What if I told you," he whispered harshly into her ear, "that I like rape." She moaned in terror as he took her other wrist in his enormous claw-tipped hand and pushed her to her back in the center of the bed. He held her arms over her head. She was too frightened to resist.  
  
He extended his claws and drew them lightly across her belly. Each razor sharp weapon left a trail of blood in its wake. She cried out and tried to pull away from him, trying to sink into the bed of grass and rabbit fur. He held her effortlessly, one hand encircling both her wrists, the other flat on her belly, smearing the blood he had drawn.  
  
He licked the blood from his hand, then lowered his mouth to lap directly from the seeping wounds. She whimpered, but ceased struggling. He snarled and moved his blood-smeared hand to her face. He rested his thumb lightly on her eyelid.  
  
"I told you, frail. I like rape. It ain't near as much fun if my victim cooperates. So you start fightin', or I'll have ta get my fun by rippin' yer eyes out." He extended the claw and, almost gently, punctured her eyelid. The blood from the tiny wound ran down her cheek like a tear.  
  
She began to struggle, turning her head away from the pressure on her eye, twisting her arms to free her wrists. He tightened his grip, grinding her bones together. She screamed and arched her back, trying to end the sudden pain in her arms.  
  
He laughed, crushing her beneath him. He used his booted feet to force her ankles apart, making it easier for him to ram his knee between her thighs. She cried out in pain as his heavy boots bruised and cut her flesh. He dropped his full weight onto her, crushing the breath from her lungs. She kicked, to little effect. Her struggles grew weaker as she gasped for breath. He released her wrists, but she barely had the strength to push against his shoulders as he continued to ravage her. His belt buckle cut deep into her belly, but she barely felt it.  
  
"Oh. Yeah," he groaned. "That is ... so ... sweet ... aaarrgh!" She barely whimpered as he raped her.  
  
She drew a deep shuddering breath as he lifted his weight from her chest. He slapped her viciously.  
  
"Get up, bitch," he snarled. "If you don't get yer ass in gear, yer gonna bleed ta death. An' I ain't finished with ya yet." He slapped her again and she moaned. "Get up!"  
  
She rolled slowly to her side, trying to get up. She had pushed herself up onto her hands by the time he was finished adjusting his clothing, but she wasn't moving fast enough to suit him. He kicked her in the hip, knocking her back down, then grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her to her feet. Blood flowed sluggishly down her legs as he threw her toward the door. She fell to her knees against the door and he pulled her up once more.  
  
"Ice an' pressure'll slow the bleedin', bitch, an' there's plenty 'o ice out there." He released her and looked around the tiny cabin as she opened the door. He spied the bloodstained tee shirt and snatched it up. He started to hand it to her, then narrowed his eyes and brought it to his nose. He laughed.  
  
"Damn all, I knew I cut that bastard up," he laughed again, shoving the shirt into her hands and pushing her through the door and into the darkness outside. She was already shivering violently in the cold. "Get the ice, babe. An' clean yerself up while yer out there. An' make it fast." He slammed the door behind her.  
  
She took a couple of steps out into the snow, away from the area where her footprints, and his, dirtied the whiteness. She stumbled and fell to her knees. She gathered handfuls of the snow and wrapped it in the shirt, then pressed the improvised ice pack against the torn flesh between her legs. She shuddered as the cold penetrated her center. Holding it in place with one hand, she painfully rubbed more snow against the cuts on her legs. She wiped the blood from her thighs and her belly, then cleaned the deep bite on her breast. Her breath hitched with suppressed sobs. She didn't understand what she had to do to please him. She'd done as he'd ordered, and he still hurt her. From the feeling of the blood continuing to flow from between her legs, he may very well have killed her. And no one would ever know. Or care.  
  
She wept, quietly at first, then with the heartbroken sound of one for whom all hope has fled. She was going to die here, alone and unloved, at the hands of the man waiting for her inside her cabin. He didn't know it, but he had already beaten her. Her spirit was broken.  
  
  
  
Creed listened to her as she cried. He grinned and, grabbing one of the rabbits off the grate, made himself comfortable on her bed and waited for her to come back in. He took a huge bite and chewed happily. He hoped she tried to run. He always enjoyed chasing down his prey.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 11  
  
  
  
Her skin was almost uniformly blue when she came back in, and the bleeding had mostly stopped, though she continued to carry the stained shirt.  
  
"C'mere, girl," he ordered as she closed the door behind her. She trembled as she approached the giant lying on her bed. He propped himself up on one elbow to watch her. His long blond hair was like a mane about his head and shoulders. If his smile had been less cruel, and his eyes less dangerous, he would have been attractive. Instead, he was only terrifying.  
  
As if he could read her mind, his smile grew, exposing the enormous sharp canines which had left such deep marks on her body. She froze and he raised one eyebrow, lifting his head to look at her more directly.  
  
She managed to take one more step, but her legs refused to support her any longer. She collapsed, knowing that he would kill her for her disobedience. She only hoped that he would finish her quickly.  
  
He laughed and reached for her, catching one wrist in his huge hand.  
  
"Poor little bird," he said almost tenderly as he dragged her limp form into the bed with him. "Scared out of yer wits, ain't ya? An near frozen, too." He pulled her against him, his arms encircling her body. She whimpered and he caressed her gently. The heat of his body against her was like a furnace, welcome yet frightening. She began to shiver. If anything, she was more frightened by his apparent concern for her.  
  
He opened his shirt and her breath caught in her throat. Would he rape her again so soon? But then, he pulled his arms from the sleeves of the shirt, and his muscles rippled under her hands where she had instinctively flattened them against his chest. He covered her with the shirt, then pulled her rabbit skin blanket over them both before pulling her against him once more.  
  
She cried in pain and confusion as the man who had just raped her so brutally held her and comforted her.  
  
His nostrils flared as the girl quieted in his arms, savoring the scent of her fear. He kissed her damaged eyelid, then licked his lips to capture the faint taste of her blood.  
  
Tomorrow would be soon enough to track down the runt. He'd take the girl with him, both as entertainment and bait. He'd let her believe that he would free her when he found the obstinate little man, then he would rip out her belly while Logan watched. He'd leave her to bleed to death in the snow simply because the uncooperative mutant had touched her. He grinned in the darkness of the cabin, his eyes reflecting the faint light of the fire like an enormous cat.  
  
  
He sensed the sunrise, within the windowless cabin, in the fashion of predators since time began. He bent over the motionless woman in his arms.  
  
"Wake up, little mouse," he whispered in her ear. "Time fer yer next lesson." She stirred and made a tiny noise of pain.  
  
He slowly slipped his shirt off her shoulder and bent to kiss her throat just below her ear. She stiffened in his arms, awake and terrified.  
  
"Shhh," he breathed in her ear. "It can be easy this time." She shuddered as he continued to kiss her, his lips and tongue hot against the flesh of her throat and shoulder. He had removed his boots the night before and now he easily removed his pants.  
  
Her arms were across her breasts, her small hands fisted near her shoulders. He gently took her fists in his hands, engulfing them completely, and slowly uncrossed her arms. He worked his thumbs under her fingers, forcing her hands open.  
  
He kissed each palm lingeringly, stroking them lightly with his tongue, then interlaced his fingers with hers.   
  
"Relax, girl. It doesn't hafta hurt." He waited while she slowly forced her body to relax. He released her hands and kept his weight on his forearms, allowing her to breath.  
  
"That's better," he said. "I told ya, it can be easy this time. You might even enjoy it."  
  
She reached up and put her hands on his back. She bit her lip to keep from crying out again. He had done so much damage to her body that the touch of the gentlest lover would have hurt. And this man was far from gentle.  
  
He expected more from her than just a lack of resistance. He wanted her to participate, to submit to his will. He smiled down at her.  
  
"Yeah, girl. That's the way." He mistook her muffled cries of pain for those of pleasure as he finished with her.  
  
He lifted himself from her and got to his feet.  
  
"Keep me happy, girl, an' ya might live through this," he said as he reached for his clothes. She could almost taste the lie in his words.  
  
"Get dressed," he snapped. "We're leavin'."  
  
  
  
She opened the ammo box and drew out the threadbare jeans. She pulled them on, hissing when the cloth caught on the cuts on her legs. She folded the blood-stiffened tee shirt and put it inside the jeans as padding for her torn flesh. She carefully worked the hide pants on over the denim. She had a feeling it would be some time before she saw shelter again, and she would need extra protection from the cold. The hide shirt was next.  
  
She was stiffly lacing her rabbit skin boots when the blonde giant handed her one leg of the rabbit she had cooked the night before.  
  
"Here," he said. "Pack any food ya've got stashed and grab yer water skin. I'll be back in a minute." He smiled at her coldly. "Don't keep me waitin'."  
  
She moved as quickly as she could, wrapping the smoked venison in a piece of hide. She snatched a bite of the rabbit he had give her, praying that she had not misunderstood. She slung the water skin around her neck, putting one arm through the strap.  
  
She was buttoning her coat when she heard the roar of a snowmobile. She grabbed the packet of meat, her hat and her mittens and stepped outside the door.  
  
"Yer keepin' me happy so far," he said as he pulled the vehicle to a stop by the cabin. "Get on." She pulled her hat on as she climbed painfully onto the snowmobile behind him. She fumbled with her mittens as he started off in the direction Logan had taken four days before.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 12  
  
  
  
After traveling for several hours, the giant stopped the snowmobile. The girl shifted her aching body on the seat and he glared at her over his shoulder. She froze.  
  
He reached down and grabbed the microphone of the two-way radio mounted on the machine and spoke into it.  
  
"Creed here," he snapped. She shuddered at the sound of his name, though she had guessed this was the man Logan had mentioned.  
  
He was answered by a burst of static, interspersed with garbled words.  
  
"No, I haven't caught him yet. But I've got somethin' that guarantees he'll come back." There was more static, and the girl was too tired to try to figure out what was being said.  
  
"Look, just scramble the chopper, OK? I need ta refuel," he interrupted. More static. "You've got a locater on this damn thing. Use it." He shut the radio off without waiting for a reply.  
  
He started the snowmobile and continued following Logan's trail. About an hour later a shadow flashed over them. The noise of the snowmobile had masked the sound of the approaching helicopter. It hovered for a moment, some distance ahead of them, then quickly sank behind the trees. Creed turned the snowmobile toward where the chopper had landed.  
  
Two men were unloading fuel and supplies from the chopper, while two others were setting up a tent. Creed pulled the snowmobile up next to the chopper and got off, gesturing for the girl to follow him.  
  
"So, where's the target?" one of the men asked as he took another can of fuel from the man inside the chopper. The other two men finished with the tent and started setting up a second.  
  
"Tracks 're about a day old," Creed said. "Should be able ta catch 'im in the morning."  
  
"Good. The Doc's gettin' twitchy." The man looked at the girl, where she leaned against the snowmobile. She was barely able to stand. "That yer 'guarantee'?"  
  
"Yeah," Creed laughed. "You know how protective good ol' Logan gets about his lady friends." He put his arm around the man's shoulders. "Get my stuff set up in that tent," he ordered. "I've got some ... business ... to conduct."  
  
"Will do." Creed slapped the man on the shoulder and strode away, toward the growing pile of supply boxes on the ground. He found the one he wanted and tore it open. The other man glanced once more at the girl, and went back to unloading the chopper.  
  
She straightened up with difficulty and moved closer to the helicopter. When she reached it, she put out one hand to support herself against the machine.  
  
"Please," she said, barely a whisper. "Help me." The man on the ground looked at her for a moment.  
  
"Against Creed? Not even if you were my baby sister, doll. Sorry." He turned away from her and took another box from the stack in the doorway. The man inside the machine never even looked at her.  
  
"C'mere, girl," Creed snarled suddenly. She cringed, but obeyed. He grabbed her by the front of her coat, lifting her feet from the ground, and held her so that their faces were inches apart.  
  
"Don't try ta subvert the troops, frail. They know that if they cross me, I'll rip their lungs out. Understand?" She nodded weakly. He released her and she landed in a heap at his feet.  
  
He took a beer from the box he had opened, pulled the tab and took a long pull from the can. He grabbed the box and carried it to the tent he had commandeered. The girl continued to lay in the snow where she had fallen.  
  
"Get yer skinny butt over here, girl," he growled. Near the end of her strength, she slowly got to her feet and followed him into the tent. It was big enough for him to stand upright and he put the box filled with beer near the back wall. She stood near the entrance until the two men who had pitched the tent shoved her aside to bring the supplies inside. She sank to her knees, too tired to stand any longer. Silent tears began to trickle down her cheeks.  
  
"Where do ya want this, boss?" One of the men asked Creed.  
  
"Right there'll do fine." The man unrolled a large piece of plastic and connected a small air compressor to it. A cable ran out through the tent flap. He turned the compressor on and began to inflate what quickly became apparent was a mattress. The other man returned with a large collapsible chair and table, which Creed immediately put to use.  
  
Soon, the tent was completely furnished, including a small heater to warm the air to more comfortable levels, an electric light, and bedding for the mattress. The girl hadn't moved. The sounds of the other men gradually quieted as they finished unloading the chopper and retired to their tent.  
  
"There's rations in that case, girl. Get some started then come here." She unbuttoned her coat and put it on the floor of the tent, out of the way. She painfully got to her feet and went to the case Creed had indicated. She picked a package at random and, reading the directions, set up the self-heating meal. The box said something about serving six, but she didn't pay any attention to it.  
  
Creed sat in the only chair and watched her. He opened and drank another beer before speaking.  
  
"Take yer clothes off," he ordered.  
  
"Please don't hurt me any more," she pleaded, her tears falling once more.  
  
"Do what yer told." She reached for the fastenings on her shirt and discovered that she still carried the water skin. She swallowed convulsively as she became aware of the dryness of her mouth and throat. She glanced at Creed, but didn't think it wise to ask for a drink. Or anything to eat. Or mercy. She nearly sobbed as she put the water skin on the table next to his hand. He caught her wrist and she gasped as he pulled her to him.  
  
"There's somethin' about you, girlie," he said quietly into her ear. She whimpered as he pulled her into his lap and began to kiss her, his mouth tasting of beer. He held her head with one hand and caressed her body with the other. He released her for a moment and reached into the box next to his chair, getting another beer. He kissed her again as he opened the beer, though he wasn't as rough as the night before. He actually seemed to be making an effort not to hurt her ... too much.  
  
He held the open can of beer to her mouth.  
  
"Drink," he ordered. "You've lost a lot o' blood, an' I need ya alive until I catch the runt." He eyes slid down over her body, "an' maybe fer a while after. Least 'til I get tired of ya." She swallowed the strong tasting brew as he poured it into her mouth, nearly choking before he allowed her a breath. He licked her lips, catching the fluid which had escaped, smiling cruelly as she trembled.  
  
The alcohol hit her empty stomach and went straight into her blood stream. Combined with the warmth of his body against hers, and the unexpected gentleness of his touch, she was suddenly dizzy and confused. He continued to caress her and kiss her and pour more beer into her parched mouth until she began to moan with pleasure at his touch. He grinned.  
  
"Cheap drunk, huh doll?" he asked as he opened another can. She reached up and carefully ran her fingers through his hair.  
  
"Its so soft," she whispered. He caught her hand and brought her wrist to his mouth, biting her gently. She gasped and threw her head back, arching her body into his. He laughed and stood, with her in his arms, and turned to the bed. He gave her the rest of the beer as he began to undress her.  
  
He opened her shirt and eased it off her shoulders. Her eyes lids were heavy and her eyes didn't focus on him. He kissed her and she closed her eyes, smiling and putting her arms around his neck. He ran his hands across her body, loosening the drawstring on her pants. He was surprised at how welcoming she seemed. He'd hurt her and she should be afraid of his touch. But she wasn't.  
  
In his younger, and more restricted, days, he'd occasionally gotten a woman drunk so he could screw her, but even drunk they were afraid of him when he'd hurt them. But not this one. What was the matter with this bitch?  
  
He pushed the hide pants off her body, revealing her blood-soaked jeans. He peeled them off her and was oddly relieved to find that the bleeding had stopped.  
  
As he caressed her, he noticed just how very thin and ... frail she really was. He knew he'd have to be more careful it he wanted to keep her alive.  
  
He frowned when he realized that he did want her alive. And not just to torment the runt, either. He ... needed her. The thought of needing someone made him angry, and he twisted the girl's arm, but when she whimpered he released her instantly. There wasn't any pleasure in hurting her.  
  
She reached up and stroked his cheek.  
  
"Poor Mr. Creed," she whispered. "Why are you so angry?"  
  
"'Cause you ain't scared o' me now. An' ya should be."  
  
"Do you want me to be afraid?" she asked, focusing on his eyes with difficulty.  
  
"Yes! ... No ... I don't know," he answered as he bent to kiss her again. She opened her mouth to him and caressed his tongue with her own. He slipped one arm beneath her and pulled her up to him, her body small and fragile in his embrace. He slid the other hand down her back and across her hip, coming to rest at her knee, which she obligingly raised and pressed against his side. Her arms were around his neck, her hands stroking his wild blonde hair.  
  
He lowered her to the mattress once more and, standing, began to remove his clothes. She watched with drooping eyelids until he stood before her. She held her arms up to him and he moved into them without hesitation, reveling in the intense sensation of her bare skin against his.  
  
The blonde giant shifted his body atop hers. She knew there would be pain, but she hoped there would be pleasure as well. He didn't seem to want to hurt her any longer, though the carnal lust couldn't be denied.  
  
He generally didn't care about his partner's satisfaction during sex, but he found that he wanted to hear his name on her lips as she cried out in pleasure. As he worked toward that goal, he found his own climax building, the pressure increasing until he was ready to scream.  
  
"Oh!" she murmured. "Oh ... Mister ... Creed ... Oh!"  
  
"Ah!" he groaned. "Victor! Call me Victor!"  
  
"Oh, yes, Victor!" she cried  
  
He stayed on her, for a long moment after they were finished, both of them gasping for air, their hearts racing. At last, he rolled off of her, pulling her against his side as he lay on his back.  
  
"You still gonna feel this way when ya ain't drunk?" he asked her.  
  
"I don't know," she answered sleepily. "Will you?"  
  
"I ain't drunk, frail," he said, but she didn't hear him. She slept in the curve of his arm. He suddenly realized that he didn't know her name. And that he wanted to. "I ain't drunk," he said to himself. "But I might just have lost my mind."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 13  
  
  
  
With the girl sleeping in his arms, Victor Creed felt oddly content. And very protective. He'd had women before, lots of them, and some of them had even stuck around for a while. But none of them had made him feel the way this puny little, half grown creature did. He couldn't say he loved her - hell, he didn't even know her name, but he did want to keep her near him. She was no great beauty, and after what had to have been months of near starvation, she sure didn't have much in the way of curves, but she was the most ... satisfying woman he'd ever had.  
  
She shifted slightly in her sleep, turning away from him, and he slipped his arm out from under her. He got up without waking her and covered her with a blanket. He stepped into his pants and opened the flap of the tent, moving outside silently. The bitterly cold air bit at his bare skin, but he barely felt it.  
  
The snowmobile had a tarp pulled over it, and two of the men were lashing the blades of the helicopter down. The last of the supplies had been stowed away.  
  
"Storm's comin' up, boss. Looks like we're stuck here for a while."  
  
"Right. Let me know when it looks like its about ta break," Creed ordered. "The runt's not stupid. He'll hole up until this blows over, an' I'll pick up his trail then." He turned to go back into the tent.  
  
"Will do," the man paused. "What about the girl?" Creed slowly turned back to face the man, his claws unconsciously extended, his eyes cold and hard.  
  
"What about her?" he asked, his voice nearly a growl.  
  
"Uh, nothin'. Just wondered if ... she ... needed anything," the man stammered. He'd seen Creed in a berserker fury, but this cold rage was somehow even scarier.  
  
"I'll take care o' her," Creed said quietly. "You worry about keepin' that bird in one piece." He went inside, closing the tent flap securely against the rising wind.  
  
The man had been hoping that Creed would be willing to share the girl, passing her around as he'd done in the past. Suddenly he wasn't interested any more. She wasn't worth getting killed over, and he had no doubt that he'd only been a heartbeat away from having his guts ripped from his body. He shuddered and turned back to the helicopter, tightening the rope he held.  
  
  
  
Creed stood staring down at the girl, his skin still flushed with anger. Just looking at her calmed him somewhat, but he would be damned if he would share her. With anyone. Ever.  
  
He quietly opened another beer and pulled the slowly cooling meal across the table within easy reach. He opened the box and inhaled the aroma, savoring it as only someone with enhanced senses could. He did wish they wouldn't use so damned much MSG and preservatives, though.  
  
He continued to watch the girl sleep while he ate. He'd wake her soon enough and make sure she ate. He'd put some meat back on her bones. He could imagine what she would feel like then, her skin sleek and hot, her body rounded in all the right places..... He gave himself a small shake. If he kept up that line of thought, he'd never get her fed.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 14  
  
  
  
The roaring of the wind awakened the girl several hours later, and she sat up with a cry, clutching the blanket to her. She stared around the tent in fright, then shrank back in on herself when she found Creed's hungry gaze locked on her.  
  
'Now she's scared of me,' he thought to himself as he watched her. 'Shit, I just can't win.'  
  
"C'mere," he ordered, though his voice was softer than before. She flinched, then put the blanket aside and tried to get to her feet. She was very weak, the blood she had lost, and the hunger she felt, added to the sickness she had barely survived, left her very little to work with. She cringed when he got up and stood over her.  
  
He gently helped her to her feet, smiling at the fear filled glance which was all she dared. He picked up his discarded shirt and pulled the warm flannel around her shivering form. He lifted her from her feet and sat down in the chair with her in his lap, holding her like a child.  
  
"I don't understand," she said, her voice quavering.  
  
"You don't have to," he answered. "You need ta eat somethin'. Yer all skin an' bones."   
  
He opened a beer and pressed it into her hand. She started to tremble and had to hold the can with both hands. The food she had heated earlier was cold, but it was available. He reached into the container, tore off a small piece of the meat, and offered it to her. She reached for it tentatively and nearly dropped the beer. He steadied it for her as she clutched at the can.  
  
"Easy, girl," he said and she cringed. "You just hang on ta that. I'll take care o' this." He held the morsel so that all she had to do was lean forward and take it in her mouth. Watching him fearfully, she accepted the offering from his fingers. She chewed quickly, her eyes wide. He tore off another bite for her. She swallowed and took it, less timidly this time. He fed her slowly, his other arm comfortably around her waist.  
  
He breathed deeply of her scent. She smelled of fear, though not as strongly now. His own scent was easily detected, of course. Faintly, he could still smell the runt on her as well. He'd make sure the little bastard never touched her again. But underneath it all was a subtle, spicy something that he couldn't identify. He only knew that he liked it.  
  
Her tongue lightly touched his fingertips as she accepted the next bite and he closed his eyes to savor the sensation. He leaned down and kissed her neck, just below and behind her ear. She shivered, but didn't pull away.  
  
He shifted her. She turned her head toward him and swallowed convulsively, nearly choking. He tapped the beer can with one claw, and she obediently took a drink.  
  
He took the can from her and placed it on the table beside them. He tilted her chin up and leaned in to kiss her. Her lips parted at the touch of his tongue and he pulled her against him hungrily, tasting the sweetness of her mouth for a long moment before releasing her reluctantly.  
  
"You need ta eat more 'n I need that," he told her, his breath warm on her neck. "Eat. We got plenty o' time."  
  
He continued to feed her, until she put her small hand on the back of his as he reached for more.  
  
"You finished?" She nodded. "Good," he said as he pulled her in for a deep and lingering kiss. He wanted her, needed her. He wanted to feel her breath on his throat. But more than anything, he wanted her to want him.  
  
He could take her anytime he wanted. He could have any woman he wanted, but there was something different about this one. He was glad the weather had turned. He wanted some time alone with her. Time to let her come to want him.  
  
She offered no resistance when he lifted her and turned to the bed. She knew he would hurt her again and just hoped she could keep from crying out. She'd seen only the tip of his cruelty and didn't want to anger him. She'd give him anything he wanted if it reduced the amount of pain she felt.  
  
He put her down gently in the center of the bed and drew the blankets up over her. He stroked her cheek, then straightened to his full height.  
  
"Get some sleep, girlie. I'll be back in a little while." He left the tent then, still wearing just his pants. The howling wind blew snow in through the open tent flap for a moment before he secured it behind him. She stared at the opening, completely baffled. She had expected him to take her again. But he hadn't. At least not yet. She waited for him to return for quite a while before slipping into an uneasy doze. She was unaware of the return of the fever which had nearly killed her a few weeks before.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 15  
  
  
  
Playing poker with Victor Creed was a life lesson in and of itself. You damn well played the cards straight, and prayed that he wouldn't be pissed enough to kill you if he lost. You couldn't let him win either, though. The chopper pilot had seen that happen once. It'd taken the poor idiot three days to die, and every second of it had been personally attended to by Creed. No one was stupid enough to try and intervene.  
  
With this in mind, it was understandable that the four men weren't too happy when Creed entered their tent, shirtless in the sub-zero weather, and decided to join their game. Now it was just before sunrise, though you could only tell by looking at a watch, the storm completely blotted out any trace of the warming orb. Creed was down a few hundred, but didn't seem too annoyed. In fact, he appeared distracted. Then the talk turned, again, to women. Specifically, the girl in the next tent. The crew chief, after his aborted conversation with Creed earlier, had tried to steer the others carefully around this topic. It had worked for a while.  
  
"So, boss, what d'ya got in mind fer the bit o' fluff ya got stashed next door?" The junior member of the crew asked suddenly. He'd heard tales of Creed's generosity with females ... at least once he was finished with them. The crew chief cringed. Creed reached across the table and grabbed the young man by the shirt and lifted him until his feet dangled above the floor of the tent.  
  
"I'm gonna keep her, that's what I got in mind, pal. This one's mine." He shook the man to emphasize his point. "That clear enough?" Wide-eyed and barely able to breath, the youth squeaked.  
  
"Yeah! Clear!" Creed dropped him, and without another word turned and left the tent.  
  
"What's with him?" the young man asked. The crew chief shrugged, and the four men shakily went back to their game.  
  
Chapter 16  
  
  
  
Creed stormed into his tent, determined to make the girl want him, tired of waiting for her and thoroughly irritated at the other man's presumption that he'd be offered her ... favors. She belonged to him, dammit, and nobody else was gonna touch her. She slept, oblivious to the conflicting emotions and thoughts raging through him.  
  
He wanted to tear the blankets away from her body, hold her down, make her she scream for mercy. He wanted her to hold her arms up to him, inviting him to her so he could make love to her tenderly and listen to her call his name in passion. He roared in rage caused by his confusion. But she didn't wake.  
  
He fell to his knees beside her and reached for her gingerly. Her skin was hot to his touch and he groaned, as much in disappointment as with a sudden surge of concern. He shook her gently, but she didn't respond.  
  
He never got sick. It was part of his mutant legacy, his healing factor. He'd never bothered to take care of anyone. If they were too sick or too injured to continue, they were abandoned. In his line of work, that was the only thing that made sense. Every man for himself. But he wouldn't abandon her. And he didn't know what to do. For the first time in a very long time, he was lost.  
  
He lay down next to her, and pulled her into his arms, covering her with the blankets. He held her and listened to her labored breathing for a long time before sleep finally claimed him.  
  
He woke to the sound of the girl's voice, murmuring nonsense. She was shivering in his embrace, but her skin was hot and dry. She opened her eyes when he shifted her so he could get her some water, but she wasn't seeing him.  
  
He poured the water into a cup and slipped one arm beneath her shoulders. He eased her into a sitting position, finding that he had to support her head as well, and tried to get her to drink. He had to actually pour the water into her mouth and hope that she swallowed some of it. After several minutes, he had managed to get most of the water into her. She coughed weakly and looked up at him, seeming to recognize him at last. He was surprised at how bad he felt when she cringed.  
  
"Please," she whispered. "Please don't hurt me." He pulled her against him, stroking her hair.  
  
"I won't, frail," he murmured soothingly. "I won't hurt you. I'm gonna take care of you." He lowered her to the bed. "I'm gonna get ya to a doctor, girl. You just take it easy." He pulled the blanket back up, covering her shivering form, put the cup down, and left the tent, quickly sealing the flap behind him. Outside, the storm still raged.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 17  
  
  
  
Creed shook the pilot awake roughly.  
  
"Wha...?"  
  
"Get up. I need ya ta fly the girl back ta the base."  
  
"In this weather?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"It's gonna take us a while ta break camp, ya know."  
  
"You ain't gonna break camp, pal. In this weather, weight's a factor. Just you, the girl, an'..." he glanced around the tent quickly, pointing to the crew chief, the smallest of the men present, "him are goin'. An' yer goin' now."  
  
"Right now?"  
  
"If you don't move, we're gonna find out if somebody else can fly that damned whirly bird," Creed snarled, lifting the pilot bodily from his cot and dropping him on the tent floor.  
  
"Uh, right. Lemme grab my boots." The man scrambled for his boots and coat as the crew chief stumbled from his bed and grabbed his own gear. The other two men looked on in bewilderment.  
  
By the time the helicopter was freed from its tethers, Creed had the girl ready. She lay limply in his arms, wrapped in the blankets from his bed. He handed her to the crew chief who took her carefully and strapped her into one of the seats of the chopper.  
  
"You get her to the medic pronto. You can come back for those other slugs when the weather clears."  
  
"Uh, what about you, boss?"  
  
"I got a job ta finish. You just make sure she's all right, you got me?"  
  
"Yeah, boss. I got ya."  
  
"Victor?" The girl could barely be heard over the howling of the wind. Creed climbed into the machine and crouched next to her, his hand extended to caress her cheek. "What's ... going on?" she asked him.  
  
"We're getting' ya to a doctor, girl. Yer pretty sick."  
  
"Please don't leave me," she whispered, leaning into his hand. "I'm scared."  
  
"It'll be all right, angel. The doc'll fix ya up an' I'll be along ta collect ya real soon." He stroked her hair and gestured for the pilot to start the engine. He dropped his hand and moved toward the door.  
  
"Victor?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"My name's Anna. I just wanted ... someone to know." Her eyes closed and she sagged against the straps. His heart in his throat, Creed had to reassure himself that she was still breathing.  
  
As Creed left the helicopter, the crew chief saw something in his eyes he'd never seen before. Creed was afraid.  
  
He secured the door and turned to slap the pilot on the shoulder. He shouted to be heard over the scream of the engine.  
  
"Keep low to avoid the worst of the winds, but get us there as fast as you can. The girl looks pretty rocky, an' I sure as hell don't wanna be the one ta tell Creed she died on the way." The pilot nodded and pushed the stick forward, causing the helicopter to tilt forward as it took off. The crew chief buckled himself in next to the girl. It was bound to be a bumpy ride.  
  
  
  
Creed watched until the chopper disappeared, the white air seeming to swallow it. Without a glance at the remaining two men, who had helped prepare the helicopter for flight, he entered his tent, closing the flap behind him.  
  
He emerged a few minutes later unseen, the men having escaped the cold into the shelter of their own tent. He started the snow mobile and drove off in the direction of the lake. He knew there was a town on the far shore, and he expected Logan was heading that way. He hoped to catch the runt before he got there. Once he had him, he could get back to the base, and make sure Anna was all right. Anna. He savored the sound of her name in his mind. If she died, there'd be hell to pay.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 18  
  
  
  
Logan pushed on through the blizzard. He knew Jezebel had given him the lion's share of the smoked venison, and that she wouldn't be able to hunt in these conditions. As soon as he reached a phone, he'd have the other X-Men come get him. 'Ro could handle the blizzard enough so they could land the blackbird. Then they'd go get the girl.  
  
He'd have to tell Hank about the pheromones, or whatever it was. Maybe he could come up with some sort of filter of something. He liked the girl well enough, but now that he was away from her he realized just how powerful, and how dangerous, her power was.  
  
He reached the town just as Creed began to circle the lake.  
  
  
  
He'd driven the snowmobile hard through the blinding snow. He'd only stopped long enough to refill the fuel tanks from the cans he'd carried along with him, continuing even in the relative darkness when the sun went down.  
  
He had only been away from Anna for about twenty-four hours, but his longing for her was becoming a physical ache. He was almost relieved to see the X-Men's plane land on the edge of town, and the runt climb on board.  
  
He could head back now, without being delayed by having to deal with Logan. A fight would've slowed him down.  
  
He was worried about Anna. His radio was on the fritz, and he hadn't heard anything about how she was doing, beyond the fact that the helicopter had made it back to base in one piece.  
  
He hated going back empty handed, but it was better than waiting any longer to see his girl. He turned the snowmobile around and headed back to the base, not even considering that Logan would go to Anna's cabin first. If he pushed it, he could be back at the base within another twenty-four hours. Which was about twelve hours too long, even if he didn't know it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 19  
  
  
  
"Damn it, I knew I should've taken her with me!" Logan stormed as he stood in the empty cabin, the smell of Jezebel's blood sharp in his nostrils. Mixed with Creed's scent, it was nearly enough to push him over the edge.  
  
He didn't love the girl by any stretch of the imagination, but he'd promised to help her, and it was his fault that Creed had found her. Any tracks or scent trails had been obliterated by the storm.  
  
"Perhaps he took her back to his base, to use her as bait, since he did not simply kill her and leave her for you to find."  
  
"Maybe. Scents 're three or four days old. I hope she's still alive."  
  
Henry McCoy suppressed a shudder at the thought of the young woman they had sought to help at the mercy of someone like Creed for that long.  
  
"Do you have any idea in which direction the base may lie?"  
  
"No. It was dark when I busted out, and overcast too." He looked around the cabin. "When I came to, I was here."  
  
"Perhaps the others will have some ideas." Logan sighed and followed Henry back to the blackbird where the rest of the team waited. Henry had decided that the fewer persons exposed to Jezebel's pheromones, the better. Logan carefully closed the cabin door, even though he was sure the girl would never come back to it.  
  
"It was underground, so its gonna be tough ta spot, especially from the air."  
  
"It will be impossible to find anything in the dark in any case. Perhaps by morning, the storm will have subsided," Henry said as they climbed aboard the blackbird.  
  
"No," Ororo interjected. "The storm will not die until late tomorrow. It is much too large a system to be easily manipulated. Tomorrow is the best I can do." Logan growled in frustration. "I am sorry, my friend."  
  
"Ain't yer fault, darlin'. I never shoulda left her here in the first place." He paced angrily to the back of the plane, still snarling to himself. "I knew Creed was gonna be after me, I'd just hoped...." He paused when Jean placed one hand on his arm.  
  
"It's not your fault, Logan," she said quietly. "We'll return to the mansion for the night. Perhaps the Professor can locate the girl," she looked thoughtful for a moment. "Or perhaps he can find Creed."  
  
"Buckle up, people," Scott ordered. "The ride's gonna be rough, even with Storm's help."  
  
The visored X-Man suppressed his own frustration. He and Jean had planned on a romantic weekend, away from the pressures of the school, and now Jean was sitting at the back of the plane, talking quietly with Logan. Who no one had even known was in trouble until he'd called earlier today. If he wouldn't just take off all the time.... He sighed and concentrated on flying the agile jet. The girl's plight was Logan's fault, no matter what soothing words Jean murmured to him now.  
  
"Fly the plane, Scott," Jean's voice echoed in his mind. "Just let me deal with Logan. Tomorrow, we'll find the girl, vanquish the bad guys, and live happily ever after." Scott smiled and concentrated on his flying.  
  
  
Professor Xavier did not wait for his students' return to begin his search. He quickly located Creed, being somewhat familiar with the taste of the savage mutant's mind. What he found surprised him. The blonde giant was anxious, a strange longing consumed him. He was pushing himself and his machine to their limits, trying to reach ... something.  
  
Charles shook his head. He dared not probe more deeply. Creed was not stupid, and if he became aware of Xavier's presence within his mind, he would be forewarned of the X-Men's approach.  
  
He turned his attention to locating the girl instead. He had briefly touched Logan's mind, to get a feel for the young woman for whom he searched. He was amazed by the ... extreme ... sexual attraction Logan felt for her, but he realized that with his heightened senses, Logan would be very vulnerable to her powers.  
  
He finally found her, just as he felt his students land the blackbird. She was heavily sedated and he was unable to pinpoint her location. He tried to contact her directly, but her mind was wrapped in the blankets of oblivion granted to her by the drugs. She was faintly aware of the pain of her body's injuries, and he feared that trying to awaken her would be more than her fragile psyche could survive. They would have to find her, as Logan would say, the old fashioned way. By looking.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 20  
  
  
  
Creed was hungry, and nearly exhausted. He hadn't stopped in nearly two days, except to fill the snowmobile's tanks. He'd thrown the last of the spare cans down a little while before, and he hoped there was enough to get him back to base. To make matters worse, the machine had developed an annoying knocking noise, which was getting worse by the moment.  
  
He couldn't think of anything except Anna. The way her skin felt under his hands, the sweet softness of her lips, her voice as she called his name. It tore his heart as he remembered the terror in her eyes as he'd raped her. He knew it would be a long time before the fear faded from her gaze.  
  
He had to yank hard on the handlebars of the snowmobile to try and avoid a fallen tree he'd been too preoccupied to see. The front skid caught and the machine flipped, throwing its rider hard into the snow covered ground.  
  
He lay unmoving for a long moment. At last he groaned and pushed himself to his feet. He staggered over to the snowmobile, but even a quick glance told him it was useless. The front fork had been torn completely away, and the tank had ruptured, spilling what little fuel remained onto the snow.  
  
Normally, Creed would have vented his rage upon the crippled machine, but today only one thought filled his mind and consumed his soul. He had to get to Anna. She was in danger, and he had to protect her.  
  
He knew he was within a few miles of the base. His exhaustion slowed him, but he moved as quickly as he could to reach the girl.  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 21  
  
  
  
"Jean," the Professor's voice whispered in the redhead's mind. "The girl is awake, but in great pain. She is terrified and I have been unable to reach her. Have you found the facility yet?"  
  
"No, sir," she answered him. "The storm dumped a lot of snow on the ground, hiding everything. Unless Logan recognizes something, we're searching for a needle in a haystack."  
  
"Hey, is that smoke?" Scott's startled words interrupted the silent exchange.  
  
"Where?" Logan demanded as Scott began to turn the agile plane toward the thin strand of darkness staining the pristine sky.  
  
"Dead ahead now," Scott said as he slowed the jet. "Definitely smoke." He brought the plane to a standstill, using its hover capabilities.  
  
"It's a snowmobile," Logan stated flatly. Creed's abandoned machine had leaked oil and fuel onto the hot engine. There were no flames, just the thin thread of smoke. "Can you land?"  
  
"Give it a shot." Scott carefully maneuvered the plane in among the trees, and set down near the smoldering machine.  
  
Logan jumped down as soon as the hatch was open, not waiting for the steps to extend. His nostrils flared and he instinctively extended his claws as he scented his most bitter enemy.  
  
"Creed!"  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 22  
  
  
  
Creed slammed his hand against the locked door which lead to the interior of the underground base. The combination of exhaustion, the half healed injuries from wrecking the snowmobile, and his need to reach Anna rendered him incapable of operating the computer's security keypad.  
  
Suddenly, the door slid aside, revealing the crew chief, slumped beside the interior controls, a trail of blood on the floor behind him. The smell of blood seemed to clear Creed's mind for a moment as he staggered in through the still opening door. He crouched before the mortally wounded man.  
  
"What the hell is goin' on here?" he demanded. "Somebody attack the base? Where's Anna?"  
  
"They've ... got her," each word was an effort. "Killed the doc ta get to her. Me 'n Tommy ... tried ta stop 'em. Knew ... she's yours." He coughed weakly. "Bastard ... shot us."  
  
"Where are they?"  
  
"Medical," the man's voice faded as his life slipped away.  
  
Creed rose and began to run down the blood stained hallway, adrenalin granting him a burst of energy, ignoring both the corpse and the open door behind him.  
  
  
  
"His tracks lead off in that direction," Logan announced as he approached the blackbird where the other X-Men waited. "Straight as an arrow, too. Barely goes around the flippin' trees."  
  
"How long ago?" Scott asked.  
  
"Not more 'n an hour."  
  
"Load up, people. We'll just have to hope he doesn't change directions on us." Seconds later, the blackbird was in the air.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 23  
  
  
  
When Creed reached Medical, he was enraged, but unsurprised by what he found. His enhanced senses let him hear, and smell, what was happening long before he arrived.  
  
"Hurry up, Harry! Damn, man, I'm 'bout ready for another go at her." He could hear Anna crying quietly and Harry's animal grunts as he took his pleasure in the helpless girl's body.  
  
Just inside the door to Medical stood the man who had spoken. He looked up just as Creed silently tore his throat out. He died without making a sound. The four other men in the room, including Harry, were in various stages of undress. Their attention fixed on Harry and Anna, none noticed as their companion died.  
  
Creed, his mind completely clear for the first time in over a day, glided across the floor to the examination table where Anna was held by restraining straps, and further pinned by Harry's bulk.  
  
"Hey!" shouted one of the men. "Wait yer turn!" Creed tore his face off without turning. He buried his claws in Harry's back and lifted him bodily from Anna's battered form as the faceless man started to scream.  
  
He ripped Harry's spine free from his body before dropping his mangled corpse and turning to the two remaining men. Comprehension was just dawning in their eyes when he grabbed them, one throat in each powerful hand, and slammed them together, crushing their skulls.  
  
The last survivor, still screaming, blundered into the table. Anna, barely conscious, cried out and Creed lunged for the man, drove his hand into his chest, and tore his heart out.  
  
Anna whimpered when he gently stroked her cheek, leaving a smear of blood across her delicate features. Her fever, at least, had broken.  
  
"It's all right, angel," he spoke to her softly. "I'm here now. No one's ever going to hurt you again."  
  
"Victor?" She turned to look at him as he carefully released the restraining strap across her throat.  
  
"It's me, baby. Everything's gonna be okay." He quickly pulled the other straps open, freeing her. He took a blanket from a cabinet and wrapped it around her as she tried to sit up. He gently lifted her in his arms, cradling her as she began to sob. She put her arms around his neck and clung to him.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 24  
  
  
  
Scott landed the blackbird near the open door of the hidden base, the light from the hallway having led them to its location. The crew chief's body, just inside the door, had not yet begun to cool. A blood-curdling scream still echoed in the hall when the X-Men entered, Logan in the lead. Scott, Henry, Jean, Jubilee and Ororo followed, Gambit and Rogue brought up the rear.  
  
"Creed's already here," Logan said as he stepped over the body and strode purposefully down the long hallway. Henry paused only long enough to determine that the man could not be helped by any earthly means, then followed his friends cautiously down the corridor. They checked each doorway, determined to leave no enemy at their back. Logan didn't wait for them.  
  
  
  
"Shhhhhh, hush, honey," Creed crooned to the girl in his arms. "Everything's gonna be fine. I'm gonna get you to a doctor...." his voice trailed off. He didn't know any doctors. At least none he'd be willing to take her to.  
  
He was feeling better, the last of the injuries he'd sustained in crashing the snowmobile had healed and his exhaustion had faded almost as soon as he'd entered the room. He didn't know if Anna had anything to do with it or not, and he found he didn't care. He'd never felt this way about anyone in his life. Not even Birdie had given him this rush when she'd hit him with her telepathic strike, triggering the 'glow' he'd needed. He had to take care of her. That was all that mattered right now.  
  
Anna quieted as he moved through the corpse-strewn room and stepped out into the hall ... just as Logan rounded the corner at the far end of the corridor.  
  
"Put the girl down, Creed," Logan snarled, his claws glittering in the harsh fluorescent lights. "This's between you n' me." Her scent hit him like a physical blow. He nearly reeled with the conflicting desires raging within his mind and body.  
  
"Not a chance, runt," Creed answered coldly. "I'll be damned if I give you another chance ta hurt her."  
  
"What?" Logan took a step forward, wanting to kill his opponent, partly because of who and what he was, but also because he was in possession of the girl.  
  
"She told me what you did. You ain't gonna touch her again."  
  
"Victor," Anna's voice was soft. Creed felt his chest constrict at how weak she sounded. "Please. He didn't rape me. He ran instead. I gave myself to him." He looked down at her, lying in his arms. "I'm sorry I lied to you. I was so afraid." She sighed. "Please don't hurt him."  
  
Logan growled deep in his throat and took another step forward. He knew he was close to losing control, but the only thing that seemed to matter right now was killing Creed and taking the girl.  
  
"Wolvie!" Jubilee's voice broke through the haze surrounding his mind. The teenager clutched his arm, pulling back on him with little effect, her small booted feet sliding across the tile floor. The other X-Men were behind them, waiting anxiously. "Wolvie, stop!" She didn't flinch when he turned to look down at her, though the lust burned hotly in his eyes. She knew he wouldn't hurt her. Just as she knew Sabretooth wouldn't hurt the woman he held so carefully.  
  
"Wolvie, look at him! Look at him!" She said insistently. "He's not gonna hurt her! We don't hafta do this!"  
  
"Back off," Creed snarled before Logan could answer Jubilee. "Ya sawed of little piece o' ...."  
  
"Victor ..." Anna's voiced faded to nothing as she went limp in his grasp, her fragile hold on consciousness broken.  
  
"Anna?" Creed's voice cracked on the single word, anguish closing his throat for a moment.  
  
Henry pushed past Logan and Jubilee, approaching Creed with great caution.  
  
"I am a physician, Mr. Creed, and the young lady appears to be in need of my services." Creed looked at him for a moment, the expression in his eyes that of a lost soul. "Do you have a first aid center at this facility?"  
  
"Yeah, but its ... kind of a mess right now," Creed looked down at Anna once more. "I really don't wanna take her back in there."  
  
"Somewhere else, perhaps? Near enough that I may partake of the supplies with relative ease?"  
  
"Doc's quarters 're next door down."  
  
"Lead the way, please." Henry glanced back at Logan, still standing stock still in the hall, then past him to the other X-Men. "Ororo? If you wouldn't mind assisting me?"  
  
"Of course, Henry." Creed turned his back without a glance at Logan and carried Anna to the deceased doctor's room. After one quick look into the medical room, Henry could understand his reluctance to take the girl in there.  
  
  
  
"Jean," the redhead turned at her love's voice. "I don't think Henry's filters are working."  
  
"You may be right. Logan is ... Scott? Are you all right?" The upright, and often uptight, X-Man was visibly trembling. She opened herself to his thoughts through their psychic bond, which she had unconsciously suppressed while trying to reach Logan. She was surprised by his highly agitated state of mind, and the blatantly erotic turn of his thoughts.  
  
"Um, right. Maybe we should ... go back to the blackbird and report to the Professor," Jean said, taking his arm casually. "Remy, Rogue, could the two of you sort of ... check out this place? See if there is anyone else around?"  
  
"Oui, wi't pleasure, ma chere."  
  
"Sure, sugah. Seein' as how it don't look like Hank is gonna need us right off."  
  
"Jubilee?" The teen still clung to Logan's arm, though much of the tension had drained from his frame as Creed moved further away with Anna.  
  
"I got 'im, Jean."  
  
"Thanks." She turned, pulling gently on Scott's arm. "C'mon, Scott, let's go." He followed her willingly enough, though his teeth were clenched with the effort required to move normally.  
  
  
  
Logan suddenly retracted his claws, causing Jubilee to jump. She released his arm, balled her small hand into a fist and punched him in the shoulder as hard as she could.  
  
"Don't do that!" she squeaked.  
  
"Thanks, darlin'."  
  
"Fer what, punchin' ya?"  
  
"Just ... thanks." He was still having trouble with the concept of Jezebel ... Anna, he realized now, being with Creed. The physical need for the girl diminished with every inch of distance as Creed carried her down the hall, but he'd entertained half-formed thoughts of romance. He shook himself. He'd have to talk to Hank about the damned filters he'd whipped up. They didn't work worth a hoot.  
  
Jubilee stepped up to the open door to the regular medical office, and looked inside.  
  
"Ewwwww! Cuisine-Art City here, Wolvie." She crossed her arms and leaned on the doorframe as Logan moved up beside her. "I am not cleanin' this up!" Considering the state of the corpses and the lingering scents of human rut, Logan couldn't even blame Creed for the savagery of the men's deaths. He'd have probably done the same thing.  
  
"You go find out if Hank needs anything, darlin'. I'll start diggin' and see what I can find in here."  
  
"Yer gonna go in there? Ewwwww!" Jubilee snorted as she turned to follow Henry and Ororo.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 25  
  
  
  
Jean, her arm looped through Scott's, steered him to the blackbird. They climbed aboard and Scott abruptly pulled her to him, his thoughts still jumbled, but at the same time very clear. She fully opened the bond she shared with him and gasped at the extent of the need which raged through him.  
  
He kissed her roughly, his hands on her back, holding her against him, his tongue probing between her lips demandingly. He released her lips, his mouth seeking her throat instead, one hand now pulling at the fastening of her uniform.  
  
"Scott. Scott!" Jean shouted. He released her so abruptly she nearly fell. He turned and slammed one fist into the wall of the blackbird.  
  
"Jean, I'm ... I'm sorry. I ..."  
  
"It's all right, Scott," she said, regaining her feet completely. "Just ... slow down a little." She grinned at his expression. "And maybe, I don't know, shut the door?" He straightened his body and carefully pushed the button which closed the door.  
  
  
  
  
  
Her ankles were crossed behind him, her back pressed into the cold steel of the door as they gasped for breath. He let his head fall forward, resting his forehead against her breastbone, the visor warm against her flesh. She put her cheek against the top of his head, her hands lightly on his shoulders.  
  
"Wow," he murmured into the cleavage between her breasts.  
  
"Wow, indeed," she responded. "But about that ... report ... we're supposed to be making ...."  
  
"Right." He kissed her lingeringly as set her on her feet. She stepped back into her uniform as he contacted the Professor.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 26  
  
  
  
Rogue and Gambit completed their survey of the remainder of the complex while Jubilee delivered the supplies, obtained by Logan from the slaughterhouse of a medical lab, to Henry, Ororo, and an anxious Victor Creed. They had found two more bodies, but no live persons. They had also located the hanger where the helicopter had been sheltered against the storm.  
  
"Good," Logan growled. "I wasn't lookin' forward to walkin' out of here again."  
  
"Huh?" Jubilee said. "Is somethin' wrong with the blackbird?"  
  
"No, darlin'. Its just not a real good idea for me an' ... Creed to share such a confined space, that's all," he explained, altering the facts slightly to what he felt a young woman of Jubilee's tender years should hear. It was Anna he was actually afraid of sharing a space with. He hated Creed to the depths of his soul, but he had worked with him before. He could tolerate his presence for short periods of time before going completely berserk. But then, Creed knew how to push all the right buttons, too.  
  
"Anna's condition is stable at the moment," Ororo announced as she approached the four X-Men. "Henry would like to move her to the mansion as soon as possible, however. She needs more care than we can adequately give her here." She turned to Logan. "Which creates another problem. Creed refuses to leave her side." Jean joined them, her skin still flushed and Logan's nostril twitched at the mingled scents he easily detected. He ground his teeth and turned back to Ororo.  
  
"Not a problem, darlin'. I can make myself scarce for a while."  
  
"Hey, I'll go with you!" Jubilee said, excitedly. He shook his head.  
  
"Not this time, Jubilee."  
  
"But..."  
  
"No." He stalked away toward the hanger. With the lingering pheromones in the air, and Jean's satiated scent tantalizing his senses, he knew he'd be spending his evenings in bars, for the next few weeks, being picked up by anything in a skirt. Or at least, anything that should be in a skirt.  
  
"Logan, wait," Jean said, following him. "It might be a good idea if, " she started, then paused.  
  
"What?" He was irritated with the whole situation. Creed got the girl, Jean and One-Eye sneak off to get a quick one in the middle of a mission, and now the woman wouldn't speak her piece and get out of his face.  
  
"Um, I think Scott should go with you."  
  
"I don't need a baby-sitter."  
  
"Not for you, Logan. For him." She had the grace to blush, at least. She knew he'd know what they'd been up to. "He's never had to face his animal side. For whatever reason, Henry's filter didn't work for him"  
  
"Didn't work for me either, darlin'."  
  
Jean blushed harder suddenly, her cheeks rivaling her hair.  
  
"Logan ... I ..."  
  
"Go 'way, Jeannie. Send lover-boy down here, but don't expect me ta be nice to 'im." Jean quickly left the hanger.  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 27  
  
  
  
A little while later, Logan heard the blackbird take off. Scott entered the hanger quietly.  
  
"Anything I can do to help?" he asked. Logan bit back the first six things that came to mind.  
  
"You know anything about explosives?" he finally asked.  
  
"Haven't had much need for them," Scott answered, touching his visor.  
  
"Good point. You checked out on this type o' whirly-bird?"  
  
"I think I can manage."  
  
Hanger door controls 're over there. She's fueled and ready to go. Take her out of here an' meet me at the clearing where we found Creed's snowmobile. Gimme a couple o' hours ta get there, but if I ain't there by sun up, go on home. "Scott nodded and moved to open the hanger doors.  
  
"Word of advice, One-Eye." Scott looked up at the hated nickname. "Stay away from the mansion until Creed an' the girl are gone. You even look at her cross-wise, and Creed'll rip yer lungs out through yer nostrils. Which might not be a bad thing, in and of itself, but it'd make Jeannie cry."  
  
"What makes you think he'd do that?"  
  
"'Cause I know Creed." He stalked out of the hanger, still muttering. "An' its what I'd do. If it wouldn't make Jeannie cry." Scott didn't hear him over the rumble of the hanger doors.  
  
  
  
Scott found the clearing with no problem, despite the growing darkness. He landed the helicopter with ease, and sat back to wait. An hour and a half later, Logan opened the door and climbed in. Scott reached for the controls.  
  
"Give it a minute," Logan said, sitting back in the seat and closing his eyes.  
  
About five minutes later, a bright flash lighted the sky, followed a few seconds later by a bass rumbling which shook the ground beneath them.  
  
When the rumbling stopped, Logan spoke without opening his eyes.  
  
"We can go now." Scott began to manipulate the controls. "You know, I never did find out what those bastards wanted with me." Neither man spoke again until the mansion was in sight several hours later.  
  
"Land out by the boat dock," Logan told Scott. Once the helicopter was on the ground, Scott started to shut down the engine.  
  
"Leave it runnin'. I'll get rid of it."  
  
"She's running on fumes."  
  
"All the better. I'll ditch it over the ocean." Scott climbed down from the cockpit. "Tell Jubilee that I'll be back in a few days." Scott ignored the fierce downdraft as Logan took off again, headed for the ocean.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 28  
  
  
  
Several days later Jean stopped by Henry's lab. Anna was doing much better and she and Creed would be leaving soon. Creed's presence had created a lot of tension, but the Professor had assured everyone that he was currently no danger to them. Before they left, Henry wanted to be certain that the girl wouldn't have a recurrence of the ... problem ... which had driven her to the mountain cabin in the first place. And to find out why his filters hadn't worked for Logan. Or Scott.  
  
He didn't figure it out until he finally convinced Creed to submit to a blood test. Which would never have happened if Anna hadn't looked up at him and said 'please'. The vicious psychopath had melted. And Henry got his blood sample.  
  
"Well?" Jean asked.  
  
"You are familiar, I am certain, with the term 'Alpha Male'." Jean nodded. "As the next step in human evolution, we mutants tend to have a high percentage of Alpha Males, to better propagate the species, of course. There are Alpha Females as well, though you are not quite so ... obvious. What we have in Anna is an extreme rarity. A physically mature, female Alpha Prime."  
  
"Alpha Prime?"  
  
"A ... super female, if you will. There have probably been others, but if Anna's experiences are typical, most probably do not survive adolescence."  
  
"So, why didn't the filter work?"  
  
"Oh, they worked. They worked on you, Rogue, and Ororo, avoiding the natural hostility triggered by her pheromones. Jubilee wore them as a precaution, though she is probably not yet mature enough to have been affected. And they worked on the lowly Alpha Males of the team, Remy and myself. But they had no effect on the Alpha Primes, Logan and Scott. Apparently Creed is also an Alpha Prime."  
  
"Anna's physiology requires an Alpha Prime male. A male strong enough, and fast enough, and smart enough to protect her. It is indeed fortunate that Logan did not tarry in her presence any longer than he did, for her pheromones are quite addictive. Our dear Mr. Creed dare not leave her side for more than twenty-four hours at a time, lest he begin to suffer from withdrawal. Possibly fatally."  
  
"Well, at least he seems to like her."  
  
"Chemistry, my dear. He really had no choice in the matter. Fortunately, his pheromones will protect her from other males, as they tend to cancel out her ... Call of the Wild, if you will. I don't know how an Alpha Prime male will react, however. Considering the risk factor, both to Anna and to Scott, I've avoided experimentation. Were Logan available, it might be a different story. But then again, simply being in the room with Creed makes him see red. Hmmmm." Henry shook himself. "Back to the subject at hand. There can't be that many Alpha Primes running around, despite the plethora of them here at the mansion."  
  
"So Anna should be all right, then."  
  
"As long as she and Creed are together." Henry glanced at the monitor showing Anna's hospital room. Anna was sleeping and Creed, slouched in a nearby chair, seemed content to watch over her.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 29  
  
  
  
The next day, Henry pronounced Anna fit to travel.  
  
Wearing clothes given her by the women in the mansion, Anna walked carefully from the Med Lab to the waiting taxi. Creed supported her gently, her arm through his. He would have been more than happy to carry her, but she insisted on walking.  
  
She smiled up at him as he helped her into the cab and he felt an odd warmth spread through his chest. He closed the car door and turned back to the mansion. Henry and Charles had accompanied them to the cab. The other occupants of the mansion watched from the porch.  
  
"Take care of the young lady, Victor. I am not entirely comfortable with allowing her to leave with you," Charles said quietly.  
  
"Yeah, well, you ain't real happy with me stayin' here, either. An' from what blue-boy there tells me, where she goes, I go. An' vice-versa." He looked at Anna, where she chatted with Henry through the open window of the cab.  
  
"'Sides, she's probably better off with me anyway. Seems like this place," he gestured at the mansion, "gets blasted off the face o' the map about once a month.  
  
"Very well," Charles replied. "I would appreciate it if Anna would keep in touch with us."  
  
"Fine by me, as long as you don't try ta recruit her." Creed walked around the cab and got in next to Anna.  
  
"Thank you, Henry," she was saying. "And please tell Logan I said thank you."  
  
"Of course, my dear. And if you ever need anything, do not hesitate to call."  
  
She waved to them as the cab pulled away. Creed put his arm around her and she snuggled into his side.  
  
"Where to, Mac?" the driver asked.  
  
"Victor?" Anna said before Creed could answer.  
  
"Yeah, babe?"  
  
"Henry took out the last of the stitches this morning." It took a heartbeat for Creed to comprehend what she was saying.  
  
"Yer ... okay, then? I mean, you can ..."  
  
"He said I could 'resume any activities' I desired." She looked up at him, smiling slightly, her hand resting on his chest. He blinked twice before turned to the cabbie.  
  
"Best hotel in town. An' there's a hundred bucks in it fer ya if ya make it in less n' half an hour." The cabbie pressed down on the accelerator as Creed bent to kiss Anna gently.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 30  
  
  
  
Twenty-eight minutes later, the cab pulled up in front of the best hotel in town. The cabbie was trembling from the strain of keeping his vehicle on the road at the speeds he'd been traveling. The lure of a one hundred dollar tip was too much to resist. The huge blonde man thrust a handful of bills at him as he and the small woman got out of the car. They went inside without a backwards glance.  
  
"May I help you, sir?" The concierge asked. His eyes bulged slightly as the man handed him a Platinum credit card and said,  
  
"Best suite in the house, pal, an' make it snappy."  
  
"Certainly, sir. And how long will you be staying with us?"  
  
"Until we get damn good an' ready to leave."  
  
"Of course, sir. Um, would you like the bellhop to take your luggage up to your room?"  
  
"Airline lost it."  
  
"I see. Well, we have a lovely gift shop which should be able to supply your needs until your luggage is recovered." He pushed the card back to Creed, along with the room keys. His eyes had widened when he read the credit status attached to the card. Unlimited. He'd never actually seen an Unlimited card before. "Please sign our registration book, sir."  
  
The blonde giant scribbled hastily on the form the clerk presented, then kissed the small woman gently, but with such passion that the clerk blushed. After the bellhop led the way to their room, the clerk looked at the registration. Mr. and Mrs. Victor Creed. Newly-weds, no doubt. And wealthy ones, despite their current ... state of dress.  
  
  
  
The bellhop opened the door, accepted his tip, and departed. Victor scooped Anna up into his arms and carried her into the room. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, her lips soft against his. The suite was huge, with several doors leading off the main room. He picked one at random, and they found themselves in ... the kitchen. She laughed softly, and they tried again. Success! The bedroom.  
  
He put her down on the enormous bed, his hands on her body through the clothing. She slid her hands up under his shirt, stroking the hard muscles of his chest and stomach as they continued to kiss, his tongue probing her mouth, her lips willingly parted for him. He fumbled for a moment with the buttons of her blouse, but she steadied his hands with her own and he soon had the garment open.  
  
She unbuttoned his shirt, and pushed it off his shoulders. He kissed her so hard he nearly bruised her lips. He'd been patient while she recovered, limiting himself to gentle caresses. Now, he wanted her. He had to have her. But he had to be careful. Oh, so careful. He didn't want to hurt her again.  
  
She shimmied out of the jeans she was wearing. He ran his hand across her belly, the ridges of scar tissue nearly indistinguishable from the rest of her skin. Shi'ar technology was wonderful. He wasn't sure he could have lived with himself if he'd permanently disfigured her perfect body.  
  
  
When they finished, he stretched out next to her, his arm across her body as they both dropped into dreamless slumber.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 31  
  
  
When he woke hours later, he gazed in wonder at the woman in his arms. She slept curled on her side, her back to him. He kissed her neck just below her ear, and caressed her bare hip possessively. She shifted slightly, responding to his touch without waking. He wanted to screw her again, and knew that she would accept his advances with a smile, but ... her illness and her injuries had taken their toll. She was painfully thin and needed to sleep.  
  
He knew that if he stayed in the room, he would be unable to resist waking her, so he quietly gathered his clothing and went to explore the rest of the suite.  
  
The bar was fully stocked, but the kitchen cupboards were bare. Guests were obviously expected to take advantage of Room Service. There were three other bedrooms, all equally luxurious. Each bedroom had a large bathroom, complete with lounging tub. All in all, the place was pretty classy.  
  
He called Room Service and arranged for a large fruit basket to be sent right up, as well as a meat and cheese tray. He realized that he had no idea what Anna liked or disliked. He called back and ordered vegetable and relish trays. Then he called again and ordered a tray of sweets.  
  
The order arrived very quickly, and Creed instructed them to put it in the kitchen.  
  
"And be quiet about it!" he hissed. "Anna's sleepin'." The hotel staff set up the food and quickly departed. He was pleased to see that they'd brought bread as well. He hadn't thought of that.  
  
Creed quietly opened the bedroom door and peering in. Anna was sleeping peacefully. He stalked restlessly about the suite for a few minutes, then decided he could surprise her with a few gifts. He left the spare room key on the kitchen table, where he was sure she would find it, and went out.  
  
The gift shop, while adequate, did not carry the things he wanted to shower her with. He left the hotel, and the doorman hailed a cab for him.  
  
"Where to, sir?"  
  
"Damned if I know. I need clothes for my lady. An' jewels, too. You take me where I need ta go."  
  
"Yes, sir." The driver took him a few miles to a large, upper class, department store.  
  
"Wait here," Creed instructed the man. "I'll make it worth your while." He handed the driver several large bills.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
As he entered the store, a young woman approached him.  
  
"Good afternoon, sir. May I assist you with anything?" Creed looked her over quickly. She was about Anna's size, though much more plush.  
  
"As a matter of fact, you can," he said, smiling. The woman felt a rush of heat go through her as he looked down at her. "The airline lost our luggage, and I need ta pick up a few things fer my wife." He continued to smile, and the saleswoman's disappointment was obvious.  
  
"Of course. What does she need?"  
  
"Everything. From the skin out."  
  
"I see. Do you know her sizes?"  
  
"No." He let his eyes roam over her body once more, his smile expanding as the woman blushed. "She's about yer height, though she ain't stacked as well. In fact, she's down right skinny, but she has been sick. I aim ta fatten her up soon enough."  
  
"Did you have anything in particular in mind?" she asked.  
  
"I wanna get somethin' that'll cheer 'er up."  
  
"Very well, sir. If you'll just follow me, I'll have some of our young ladies model a few thing for you." She pretended not to notice the way his eyes followed her curves as she turned away. "And what about yourself, sir? Are you in need of ...," she paused to lick her lips suggestively, "anything?"  
  
Creed smiled at her. You'd have to be a eunuch to miss what she was getting at. Normally, he'd have taken her up on her obvious offer, maybe even in one of the dressing rooms. But all he wanted to do was to get back to Anna.  
  
"Sure, babe. I could use some duds, if you guys have got anything big enough ta fit."  
  
"I'll arrange for one of our tailors to come down, sir." She was disappointed in his failure to pursue her. She knew she had a fine figure, and most men couldn't wait to try and touch her. This man's wife must be something special.  
  
"Whatever." He looked around the store as he followed her. "She'll need jewelry too." Thoughts of her commission began to override her desire to flirt with him, though not completely. He was so powerfully male.  
  
Shortly, Creed found himself in a private viewing room, with a steady stream of models, jewelers, and other sales people being paraded before him. His measurements had been quickly taken.  
  
"Just fetch whatever'll fit. I don't care. An' I don't wanna see 'em, either."  
  
"Very good, sir," the tailor left quickly.  
  
Chapter 32  
  
  
  
Anna woke to silent darkness. She didn't know where she was for a moment and she was frightened. Then she remembered. She was with Victor. She wasn't really sure how good a thing this was, but he hadn't laid an unkind hand on her since the first night in her cabin. From what the men at the base had said, she'd thought he'd given her to them, but then he'd arrived, smashing through her tormentors like an avenging angel. He hadn't left her side since. Until now.  
  
She slipped into her borrowed clothes and cautiously opened the bedroom door. The living room was empty, as were the other bedrooms. She peeked into the kitchen and was astounded by all the food artfully arranged on the table and counters. She reached out for an apple, not sure if she should believe her eyes. But it was solid, and smelled unbelievable sweet. She gingerly took a bite, then quickly devoured the apple. She hadn't had a piece of fruit in almost three years.  
  
Still clutching the apple core, her legs suddenly felt weak and she fell to her knees in the middle of the kitchen floor. Sobs racked her body, the juice from the apple sticky on her face and hands.  
  
She was still sitting there when she heard the door to the suite open.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 33  
  
  
  
After several hours, Creed had an impressive collection of packages awaiting him in the cab. He didn't even glance at the bill as he signed the charge slip. He couldn't wait to see Anna's face when he showed her everything he had selected for her. Especially the emerald and gold necklace and earring set, and the diamond solitaire ring.  
  
  
  
Anna leaped up, eager to see Victor again. She had been half afraid that he had abandoned her. But something about the sounds coming from the living room made her be careful. She peeked out through the crack around the kitchen door.  
  
Standing in the center of the living room was a man nearly a big as Creed. He looked around the room, apparently considering which room to look in first. He carried an amazing array of weapons slung about his body. In his hands he held an enormous gun, with a funny looking barrel.  
  
She must have made some sound, because he turned suddenly toward the kitchen. Eyes wide, she backed away from the door, desperately searching for a place to hide, or for a weapon to defend herself. She silently lifted a large skillet from a hook near the stove and moved to the end of the counter farthest from the door. She was going to duck down behind it and hope that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't see her. The door flew open before she had time.  
  
She spun toward him, the skillet hidden from his view by the cabinet. The hole in the end of the barrel of his gun looked enormous as it pointed at her unwaveringly.  
  
He stared coldly at her slight figure for a long moment before speaking.  
  
"Who're you?" His voice held little inflection. He didn't care who she was, he was just gathering information.  
  
"A ... Anna," she squeaked.  
  
"Where's Creed?" he demanded, stepping closer.  
  
"I ... I don't know." He stood over her now, the end of his gun only inches from her chest. If he tightened his finger on the trigger even slightly, her life would end. Her heart hammered in her chest and her throat was too tight to scream.  
  
"You can't be Creed's whore. You ain't flashy enough fer him." He shook his head. "Ya sure picked the wrong hotel room ta break into, kid. Go on an' get outta here." He had no intention of allowing a witness to live, but he preferred to give his victims a taste of hope before killing them. Besides, he needed time to lower the gun and draw his knife. He'd wait until she was about to reach the kitchen door, then he'd grab a handful of her hair and drag her back, his knife sliding across her throat as he covered her mouth with his. He could almost taste her blood already. Unconsciously, he licked his lips.  
  
  
  
Creed grabbed a couple of parcels from the cab and hurried inside as the doorman and the cabbie unloaded everything else onto a cart. He couldn't wait to get back upstairs. He almost hoped Anna was still sleeping. He'd like to wake her with a gentle kiss before giving her the presents.  
  
The elevator only took a few seconds to reach his floor and Creed stepped out, smiling happily. The smile faded when he realized that the door to his room was open the tiniest crack. He silently put the packages on the floor and approached the suite carefully. His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of another man, liberally mixed with the smell of gun oil. He stood outside the door for an instant, then slammed it open.  
  
The gunman jumped and spun toward the kitchen door at the sound. Anna didn't hesitate. She swung the skillet with all her might. The metal rang after slamming into the gunman's head. He dropped like a rock, without firing a single shot.  
  
Creed burst into the kitchen moments later, only to stand, dumbfounded, as Anna stood trembling, the skillet clutched with both hands, over the fallen man. He would have laughed if not for the look on her face. He relieved her of the skillet and gathered her into his arms.  
  
"It's all right, baby," he murmured into her hair as she clung to him. She hadn't made a sound. He held her for a moment longer, then stood up, brushing the hair away from her face.  
  
"Angel, listen to me. In another minute, the bellhop is gonna be bringin' up some stuff I got fer ya. Problem is, I left the door hangin' open, an' he's gonna wonder what's up. Now, I ain't gonna leave you in here with this mook, but somebody's gotta shut the door, then open it an' let the guy in. Can you do that for me, Anna?" She nodded, straightening her shoulders and taking a deep breath.  
  
"You okay?" he asked.  
  
"I'll make it." She tossed her hair over her shoulder as she went through the kitchen door and into the living room. As she was closing the door, she heard the elevator ding, announcing its arrival at their floor. A minute later, there was a polite rap on the door. She waited a beat, then opened the door.  
  
"Evenin', ma'am," the bellhop said politely. "Mr. Creed asked me to bring his purchases up for him."  
  
"Of course," she said coolly, amazed that her voice didn't quaver in the slightest. "Just put them over there."  
  
"Very good, ma'am. I found these by the elevator. I believe Mr. Creed may have dropped them."  
  
"Thank you," she said. "I'll give them to him."  
  
The bellhop unloaded the packages, most of them brightly wrapped like presents. Then he tipped his hat and left. Mr. Creed had given him a sizable tip on his way to the cab, and Mrs. Creed was obviously uncomfortable with his presence.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 34  
  
  
  
Still carrying the two small boxes, Anna went back to the kitchen. Creed had stuffed a convenient dishtowel into the other man's mouth, and had tied him to a kitchen chair using his own belt and equipment straps. The man's shoes and weapons were on the counter near the sink. His head hung down, and he was obviously still unconscious.  
  
Creed held his hand out to Anna. She took it with her free hand and he drew her into his arms. He hugged her and kissed the top of her head.  
  
"You okay?" he asked, still holding her tightly.  
  
"You already asked me that."  
  
"Just wanted ta make sure." He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes in pleasure at the feel of her body in his arms, her scent rushing through him like a drug. He loosened his grip reluctantly and looked down at her.  
  
"I'm proud of ya, babe. Ya handled yerself like a pro." Suddenly, tears filled her eyes and he drew her close again.  
  
"I was scared."  
  
"I know, angel, and I'm sorry. But it won't happen again."  
  
"He wanted to know where you were," she said as the tears ran down her cheeks. "With all those guns and things, I knew he wanted to kill you. And he was going to kill me, just for the fun of it. He told me he knew I wasn't your ... your whore, because I wasn't flashy enough. But I am, aren't I? I am your whore. Your bitch, your property," she sobbed, heartbroken, repeating the things she heard men call her as they'd justified to themselves what they had done to her. "Even my stepmom said I was nothing but a two-bit street walker, not fit to share a house, my daddy's house, with her." All the grief she'd bottled up for so long, all the hurt and anger she'd suppressed in order to survive, came pouring out. She curled one hand into a fist and struck a solid blow to his chest. He grunted in surprise. "I'm nothing! I'm just something for guys ta screw! Nobody! Nothing!" Then she was crying to hard to speak.  
  
"No, Anna, no. You're nobody's whore, angel. Nobody's property." He held her tightly. "Anna, I love you." The admission surprised him, as much for saying it, as for finding that it was true. Her tears tore at his heart.  
  
"No you don't," she whispered. "Its just those damned hormone thingies Henry told us about. I'm just a drug you're addicted to. That's all."  
  
"Anna, Anna. Look at me, angel." He cupped her chin and turned her tear-streaked face up toward him.  
  
"I don't get addicted, sweetheart. I have a supercharged immune system. I heal instantly. I can't get drunk, and I can't get high." She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "I'm not addicted to you. I love you."  
  
"But ... Henry said ..."  
  
"Henry was wrong." He wiped her tears away with his thumbs, his hands gently cupping her head. "Maybe I was at first. But I'm not now. I love you." Neither of them noticed the bound man as he woke. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The he couldn't believe what he was seeing.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 34  
  
  
  
"He took this box from her, and I swear ta god, he got down on one knee, opened the box, took out a ring with the biggest god-damned rock I've ever seen, an' said 'Anna, my love, will you be my wife'."  
  
"Yer shittin' me! Creed?"  
  
"Damn straight!" The man said. "I sure as hell didn't want him ta know I'd seen him doin' it either. So I closed my eyes and pretended ta still be unconscious."  
  
"Hey, ya never did explain how Creed got the jump on ya." The man glared at the speaker for a moment, then went on.  
  
"Pretty soon I heard the kitchen door open and close. Next thing I know, that crazy bastard has me by the throat. He picks me up with one hand, still tied ta that damn chair, and he wants ta know if I'd called the little slut a whore!"  
  
"What'd ya do?" another man asked.  
  
"What could I do? I had a damn towel stuffed in my mouth, an' look at this," he pulled his shirt collar away from his neck, revealing four nasty scars on one side, and a single one on the other. "He had his claws buried in my throat. I couldn't even shake my head. An' I didn't call her a whore." The other men looked at him with sympathy, and one of them gestured for the bartender to bring them another round. He put a beer down in front of a short, dark-haired man, and turned to get their drinks. The short man listened to the man talk, a slight smile beginning to touch his lips.  
  
"He got right up in my face, an' let me tell you, he was mad! He said 'I outta gut you right here fer makin' my Anna cry. But I'm not goin' to. Ya wanna know why? Cause yer gonna get the word out. Creed's retired. I ain't takin' no more jobs, no more contracts, an' no more shit from assholes like you. Anybody so much as looks at her wrong and I'll make 'em wish they'd never been born. Ya got that?' Next thing I know, I'm wakin' up in a dumpster. Let me tell you, I was happy ta be alive. Ever since, I been tellin' ever'body that'd listen that Creed's retired."  
  
"Man, this business is gonna miss that psycho. Think anybody's stupid enough ta try an' mess with his broad?"  
  
Logan got up from his seat at the bar and stepped over to the table.  
  
"I wouldn't suggest it, bub. Girl's got friends besides Creed."  
  
"An' just who the hell are you?" Logan put his hand on the man's shoulder and popped his claws.  
  
"I'm Wolverine. Any more questions?"  
  
"Aw, shit!"  
  
"Damn," the storyteller said. "Looks like I gotta add another chapter ta my story." Logan, satisfied that he had gotten the men's attention, retracted his claws, turned back to the bar to pay his bill, and left. Chuck'd been worried about letting Anna leave with Creed, but Logan was pretty sure he could stop now.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Epilogue  
  
  
  
Four Years Later  
  
  
Creed pulled up outside the Xavier Estate's gate and parked the car. He got out and walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, and offered Anna his hand.  
  
"Victor, why don't we just drive up to the house?"  
  
"Angel, their security makes ours look like a kid's toy. I might risk it, but I ain't takin' you in there uninvited. Welcomin' committee'll be out soon enough." He opened the back door and leaned in.  
  
"Well, look who's awake. Hello, Erica, how's my big girl? Come to Papa, kitten. That's my girl." He lifted the sleepy child out of the car seat and out of the car. She rubbed her eyes then grabbed a handful of her father's hair.  
  
"Wide!" she demanded. Anna smiled as Victor swung their daughter up to his shoulders, the toddler squealing and giggling.  
  
Logan, investigating the alert from the gate sensors, watched Creed play with the little girl with something close to astonishment. He was also relieved to find that, though he could sense her clearly, Anna's scent aroused none of the insatiable lust he'd come to associate with being near her. He grinned. He thought he'd ... forget to tell One-Eye about that. Just to see how fast he scrammed. He stepped forward into the open.  
  
"Creed. Anna. Who's the munchkin?"  
  
"Well, well, well, if it isn't ..." Creed paused glancing up at his tiny daughter, then over at Anna, who was studiously ignoring him. "My old ... friend Logan. Erica, this is Logan. Can you say 'hello'?"  
  
"He'wo," the little girl said around her thumb. The she popped the digit out of her mouth and leaned forward so far that if her father hadn't kept a careful grip on her little legs, she would have tumbled from his shoulders. And it was a long way to the ground. "You sme'o good. Wike my daddy." Logan arched an eyebrow at the tiny girl.  
  
"You smell pretty good, too, darlin'." He met Creed's eyes.  
  
"That's why we're here. We need ta get her checked out before ... any problems start."  
  
"Right. Let me get the gate." He opened the gate while the little family got back in the car. After they had driven through, he closed the gate, then entered the gatehouse to call the mansion and notify them of their arrival.  
  
  
  
"Well, I can certainly understand your concern, Anna, Victor, but you can be at ease. While Erica is a mutant," the child in question was stroking Henry's arm in wonder. "She is not an Alpha Prime. She shouldn't have the same type of problems you had, my dear."  
  
"Thank goodness. When she started ... well, I was just scared to death."  
  
"Yeah, an' we both knew we could trust you people ta check her out."  
  
"Of course. As long as you are here, do you mind if I do a follow up study on the two of you?" Creed started to growl, but his wife and daughter both looked at him quietly. He sighed instead.  
  
"Sure, what the he...heck. We're here, ain't we?"  
  
  
Later, after all the tests had been run, and Creed was busy chasing his active toddler around the living room, much to the amusement of the X-Men (without Scott, who had fled to the boathouse at the mention of Anna's name), Henry spoke to Anna.  
  
"My dear, were you aware..."  
  
"Yes, Henry."  
  
"Does Creed know?"  
  
"Well, I haven't told him, but he probably does. You know how sensitive his nose is."  
  
"Of course. Do you want to know about this child?"  
  
"Yes. I do."  
  
"Well, the fetus is female, and a mutant, but I find no evidence of the Alpha Prime genes in her either."  
  
"Good. That's what I wanted to hear. When Erica started telling her father how good he smelled, well, it had me worried. Now I don't have to worry about either of them. Now, we just have to wait and see what their mutations will be."  
  
"Yes indeed. This could be very interesting."  
  
  
  
"So, Creed, I heard you retired. What d'ya do to amuse yerself now?" Logan asked as Creed swooped down upon the child who was 'hiding' with her face in a chair cushion.  
  
"I do consultin'."  
  
"Consultin'?"  
  
"Yeah. Companies hire me ta find the problems in their security. God, you wouldn't believe how easy some of these places are ta get into. Then I tell 'em what they gotta do ta fix it." He grinned as he tickled Erica and she squealed in delight. "Sometimes I go back unannounced, just ta see if they listened. Mostly, they don't. So I scare the he... heck out of 'em, send 'em another bill, and then they upgrade. Like they should'a done in the first place. Make almost as much money as I did before, too." He looked up as Anna entered the room, and his eyes lit up with happiness. "Anna's a lot happier with my line o' work to. Ain't ya, angel."  
  
"Of course, my love."  
  
"Will you be stayin' fer supper?" Logan offered.  
  
"We'd be delighted," Anna answered for her family.  
  
  
  
58  
  
  



End file.
